


Lethal Moments (Bits and Pieces)

by Bumin_Inc1231



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-12-17 03:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumin_Inc1231/pseuds/Bumin_Inc1231
Summary: 172 days24.5 weeks5.7 monthsThat is the time from the Shire to Erebor. And It just so happens a little someone is going along in this 'wonderful' trip. Where a modern woman falls into the clutches of Middle Earth. Her purpose? She doesn't have one. She isn't there to save anyone. Nor is she there to fall in love. She just happened to drop into the caring hands of a wizard and his company.Well, the caring hands of a wizard. It took far to long for the company to care for the small woman. Who is she you ask? Why, her name is Everest Kirkland, a victim of trauma and death.Maybe, her appearance wasn't so accidental... not with the hearts she will capture awaiting her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So Hey, Hi, Hello.   
I'm not dead. And as you can see this is Bits and Pieces. For those of you who have read it, I am renaming and posting the new and improved work here. Don't freak out, I'm not gonna change much...   
ANYWAY   
Enjoy the first chapter \\(^_^)/

Sighing heavily, the stature of a woman shuffled her way down the sidewalk. Her classes had taken longer than what was reasonable in her opinion, forcing her to miss the last bus into the rural town in which she lived. Shifting her bag across her back, she started to cross the street towards a quieter part of the town. She never heard the truck coming down the block. There was plenty of warning to its approach. She just didn’t see them. The lights, she couldn’t even hear the engine roar or the honking horn. The reason? Her headphones enveloped her ears. Casing her within her mind, the gentle beat of the drum consuming her. She didn’t stand a chance against the vehicle. 

The woman you will come to know was treated like a boulder in a catapult. Her body ricochet of the front of the truck, appearing to fly before landing directly on her left side, head crashing first into the cement before her shoulder and hips followed. Skidding a few meters across the pavement left holes all across her left side, revealing the now damaged skin below. Blood was seeping from her left temple, her lips trembling with unsaid words. Her entire left side was becoming an unwanted maroon, staining the road with its new color. 

She couldn’t feel anything, she barely remembered what had happened. All she could remember was crossing the street. And now she was in the middle of it. 

“Oh my god, are you alright?” A voice screeched. 

Rolling her head to the right, she stared up at a blurred figure of a man. In his mid 30’s to be exact. The woman felt unadulterated hatred burn in her chest, using that anger in a burst of adrenaline to lurch upward into a near sitting position. Wrapping her bloodied hand around his shirt, she dragged herself up even further, seething with rage. 

“Are you... an idiot? Are you that... blind?” 

The man stared down at her in horror, trying to understand how she had the will and strength to lift herself from the road. 

Her entire left side was bleeding faster than she was speaking, the skin ripped in several places, sometimes exposing her muscle and rarely a bone could be seen. Her backpack was split open to reveal batter books and the remnants of a laptop. Twisted around her neck was her headphone wires, flexing against the skin of her neck dangerously as she took a breath. 

The man couldn’t tear his eyes away from her bloodied face, a new spring of said blood dripping down her lips. 

“I’m really sorry! Stay still and… and I’ll call an ambulance!” 

Looking desperately back at the truck which held his family inside. He noted his wife on the phone, eyes wide with horror as she forced her children not to leave the car. 

Several men and women had left their homes and stared down upon the scene in absolute horror. They whispered amongst themselves, several already dialing on their phones. 

The driver, panicked and beyond afraid, began to yell. 

“Where is that god damn ambulance!” 

The woman currently on the ground released the man and dropped back, trying to untangle herself from the wire around her neck. The man attempted to stop her but was thwarted away. She did this all with only her right arm, yanking on her batter headphones to hear the melody. Finally able to remove the cable from her neck, she forced her headphones into her ears to calm herself. 

Slowly her tensed shoulders relaxed as the adrenaline high left her body. The ambulance appeared just down the road as she became dizzy, pain starting to rise in her wounded side. 

What side was cut up? She couldn’t recall. Everything just  _ hurt _ . 

She didn’t move from then on out, just listening to the music provided by her shattered phone. It came through gruff and statically, the base dropping and raising octaves constantly. The singer’s voice was deformed and unintelligible. 

“Ma’am, ma’am. I’m going to help you, my name is Eric Benson. Do you know your name?” 

Opening her eyes she hadn’t realized were closed, she stared up at a man with the recognized green uniform, his jacket quickly becoming stained red. The woman smiled and reached up with one headphone in hand, ignoring the objections of the man. Pressing it over his ear she fell back with a dizzy smiled, whispering weakly forcing the man to remove the one headphone to hear her. 

“It’s my song… Just a dream… I’ll wake up late… for school any minute now…”

“Ma’am, what’s your name?” Eric asked dropping the headphones after hearing the tormenting tune. 

He took out his kit and began to work, trying to stop the bleeding. His partner was keeping watch over the woman’s heart rate and vitals, having hooked a small patch to her chest, the right side of her chest actually. 

The left had been ripped off its skin, if not it was far too damaged to handle.

“Eric, we’ve lost her!” The worker hissed. 

Eric stared down on the woman, pressing his hands to her major wounds before tying a roll of gauze down. Pressing his hands to her chest, he began to work, trying to start her heart once again. His partner brought over the defibrillator and prepared it. Ripping the remains of her shirt, he pressed the pads together before shouting, 

“Clear!” 

No response. 

“Charged.” 

“Clear!” 

Again, he tried. Again he failed. Removing the defibrillator from her chest, he covered the now motionless body with his coat, but not before seeing the fractured phone. Taking it out of her now cold grip, he opened it to see the girls’ photo with what appeared to be her mother and father. Taking a sharp breath, he unlocked the screen in search of her contacts. The word Mom and Dad were at the top, the most recent. Calling from his phone, he spoke solemnly. 

“Is this the mother of the deceased?” 

“Excuse me? How did you get Everest’s phone? Oh, I see! You’re one of her friends, aren’t you? Bunch of goofballs you are,” The older sounding woman laughed into the phone. 

Eric could hear the faint sound of someone cutting something. The mother of ‘Everest’ was cooking dinner. 

“I’m sorry to bare such bad news, please come to the cross of Pine Avenue and Heartland Drive. Your husband as well. We need you to identify the body,” 

“Wait, who are you? If this is a prank, it’s a mighty twisted one Mister. I won’t—” 

“If you are who you say, you’re daughter has died today at 3:49 pm. Please come to the cross of Pine Avenue and Heartland Drive,” 

Hitting ‘end call’, Eric dropped the phone into his pocket and began to gather his gear. 

All around he found several papers with the name Everest J. Kirkland. She was a college student, clearly majoring in art and computer graphics from the papers and sketchbook. 

Inhaling deeply, he removed himself from the scene, allowing the cops to rope it off as the mortician came in with the cleaning team. 

“I want to see my daughter, right now!”

Looking to the left of the scene, Eric examined a woman in an apron and a warm red sweater. Her face was round with a small widow’s peak at her hairline. A man was behind her, brandishing a jean jacket and overalls. 

Eric approached as the police attempted to ask questions. But there was no point, the man merely cut them off to get the answers he clearly wanted. 

“I want my daughter in the next minute or your ass will be on the pavement! My name is James Kirkland and this is my wife, where is our daughter?” 

Eric took a shaky breath and stepped forward, excusing the police. Motioning for the couple to follow, he ignored the questions until they stood over the body. 

His coat had been removed for the team, the mortician lifting the body onto a cart to move her to a hospital where she would officially be claimed dead. 

The mortician had kept the white sheet from covering her face, allowing her one last time to appreciate the sky. Her eyes were closed as if she were merely sleeping. Her lips a deathly white as well as her skin. Eric knew better than to trust such a peaceful state. 

“No, no no no no no no!” Mrs. Kirkland wailed. 

She rushed forward, but her husband wrapped his arms around her waist to ground her. Burying her face into his chest, he allowed silent tears to begin their trail down his cheeks. Eric had seen many parents cry, and it never got easier. It just made you _number_. 

“Who did it? Who did  _ this _ ?” He snarled, choking as he attempted to catch his breath.

“A truck driver had come up the hill, he didn’t see her. There was no time to move, not without risking the lives of those aboard the truck itself. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Eric explained delicately, watching the man stiffen and the woman falls apart. The wife continued to weep, her voice cracking as she screamed. Eric closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

He stepped back, allowing the mortician to mount the young adult into his truck. The parents were forced to follow in their own vehicle, more than likely breaking every speeding law to keep pace with the truck. 

Eric looked up onto the moon, the one that had witnessed the accident first hand. It goes without saying that any person may attempt to unite kindred spirits, but, whatever their hopes and longings, none have the power to reunite the kin with the lost soul. Speaking softly, Eric lowered his head as a single tear fell. 

“No matter how much you hate or how much you suffer, you can't bring the dead back to life… I know goodbyes hurt the most, especially when the story was not finished,” 

Exhaling shakily, the first responder stepped closer to his truck. Sitting into the driver's seat, he waited a moment before finishing his thought. 

“The hardest part isn’t losing them, it is learning to live without them.”


	2. Chapter 2

Faint voices filled the girls’ senses as she emerged from a bright, cold abyss. She remembers sitting in a white room, numerous people sitting around as a voice seemed to be calling over a PA system. She could feel faint touches, an occasional dab around her forehead and neck, but nothing else. Maybe once or twice a hand holding her own. 

She wasn’t certain how long she had sat in that room, ignoring the men and women around her. Everest knew not to talk to them. She had tried days-- had it been days? Well, she had tried days ago. They just looked through her. 

Today was the day she saw a door leading out of the white room, and she took it. 

Opening her eyes Everest, at first, was unable to distinguish humans from an object. She could see shifting figures, large white blobs, things of that nature. But nothing like what a hospital should look like. Was she in a hospital? 

Blinking several times she began to move her fingers. Her eyes soon focused on one... no, two figures. The two merely stood in the room, facing one another in a clear conversation. Were they talking about her? Once again she blinked, her hearing still evading her as she attempted to make out what they were saying. 

Opening her mouth, her throat began to burn for water, her tongue laying useless in her mouth. Closing it, she waited for her vision to clear completely. A minute passed with no such luck, so she closed her eyes. When she opened them, it was somewhat clearer.

Somewhat satisfied, she ignored what was around her and attempted to move her arms. The left gave her more trouble than anything. A searing white pain engulfing her as she attempted to sit up. But, she was able to move her right with only a small amount of soreness. 

“My Lady, please lie still.”

Lolling her head to the right, Everest examined the first man who now stood beside her. 

His face was handsome, his wavy but tamed hair was the color of caramel and his eyes so deep a brown she felt as if she could drown in them. It was like looking down into the earth’s core.

Opening her mouth, this time to speak, she turned her head sharply. A cough she hadn’t realized she was holding wracked her body, aggravating every inch of her. 

A second man acted expeditiously, pouring a tall glass of water for her. He was an older fellow, a neat grey beard resting over his chest. He adorned grey robes, a pipe between his lips as he presented her with the glass. His eyes revealed wisdom, twinkling slightly in the light. 

“Drink my lady, it will assist you,” 

The cup was taken from the older man to the younger, the brunet, who tenderly pressed it to her lips. He made sure not to spill it or make Everest strain to drink. The brunet pulled back when she gave him a quick glance, the glass nearly empty. 

Her throat no longer burned, but it became hoarse and weary. So she took several breaths before speaking, but when she attempted to, her voice gargled. Her hand flew up to her throat, clutching it in astoundment. It was almost unbearable to hear, even to speak. It felt like a fire burned within her throat. If this were to be a common occurrence, how would she communicate with the others? 

Taking a deep breath, she spoke at a volume that didn’t strain her vocals, which could barely be called a whisper. More like the wind whispering through your hair. 

“Who... are you?” 

The first male smiled lightly and patted her head, keeping clear of her left temple.

“Hello Miss, my name is Bilbo Baggins. This is gentlemen Gandalf. Thanks to his quick thinking, he was able to bring you here for healing. Can you tell us what you remember?” 

Everest took in the new information, trying to recall anything before the crash. She was met with indescribable pain, it coursing through her mind before forcing her body to tense. 

Her only memory that was revealed was her name, birthday and talents. There was nothing more, just the pain of her— what had happened? 

Her newest memory was foggy like someone had stolen the precious records of her mind. She remembers leaving her classes… when some monster struck her, tearing at her flesh and gnawing on her bones. 

“I remember something… hit me,” Everest curled her right hand tightly around the beds’ quilt, unaware of the tears trailing down her cheeks. 

It hurt to move, it hurt to speak! It was like someone shoved burning coal down her throat, searing her vocal cords and leaving it useless to her.

The man named Gandalf sat down near her shoulders, taking her right arm and wrapping his fingers around her hand, his thumb caressing the skin gingerly. Everest whimpered pathetically before Bilbo hesitantly reached out, stroking her hair delicately. 

“Do not fear, that monster is long dead. You are safe within these halls,” 

Turning her poignant eyes to ‘Bilbo’, she smiled timidly. 

Gandalf watched from her side and smoked his pipe quietly. The monster she spoke of did die at the hands of  _ someone _ , but he wasn’t the one to do the feat. Another had saved her that day, he was merely the delivery boy. 

The creature that he had found in front of the battered woman was made of steel, enough of it to create several well-crafted swords and axes. It was the size of a warg, the structure of it bent and battered as if it had crashed headfirst into a wall. Above the gaping jaw, was a cracked layer of glass, the inside unclear to those outside the monster. He cared not to look within the beast’s belly. 

Clearly the beast had claimed more than one life in its time, and it had died trying to take another. The woman had appeared dead, but upon closer examination, Gandalf saw her chest rise and fall, albeit with great difficulty. 

Snapping from his memory Gandalf stood from the bed and put his pipe out, bidding farewell to the two. Under the circumstances, she would be staying there in The Shire before Bilbo left for the journey. 

Of course, this adventure would be months, maybe even a year away from today. So the lady would have time to heal and be healthy. Maybe even close enough to Bilbo to watch his home for him while he went away.

“I’m so... sorry to intrude,” Her voice cracked, sizzling with the tone it now bared. 

Bilbo winced at in occasionally, making the woman lower head in embarrassment. Gandalf looked to their host for answers, but Bilbo’s gaze was fixated on the woman. He cleared his throat and smiled, making a small attempt at introducing himself. 

“Greetings my lady, do not worry. You are always welcome here. As for a healer’s wing, this is not, but the den of my home. As for my name, I am called Gandalf the Grey,” 

Again Everest attempted to speak, but she coughed into her elbow forcefully, turning away before whimpering at the pain. Bilbo rubbed her right shoulder tenderly before she turned to continue speaking. But her voice burned, coming out in a thick array of words. Bilbo understood her, seeing as anyone would want to go home after an accident such as this. 

“You will merely aggravate your wounds more than you have if you travel. You will stay here until you are able to travel,” Gandalf nodded watching the color drain from her face. 

Everest gawked in absolute horror at the man. It was clear she needed a professional, not a half-wit. And home is-- 

Where was home? What was her address? She remembers her home, but all the faces and names were blurred and black noise. 

Looking left and right, she didn’t recognize  _ anything _ , not even a glance outside _ the window _ could tell her where she was. Her hands trembled as her adrenaline high fell down and away from her system, revealing the panic and pain. She wasn’t  _ home _ . She wasn’t  _ near _ home, Hell! She might not be on the same continent anymore! 

“My Lady, we have told you our name, yet you refrain from telling us yours,” Bilbo spoke softly,  _ smoothly _ . 

No human could speak  _ that _ smoothly. It hit Everest harder than she expected. She began to examine both males in the room. Gandalf looked human, he was probably the most human one here beside herself. Bilbo was  _ wrong _ , all  _ wrong _ . His face to perfect, his feet too big,  _ furry _ . 

“My Lady. Please rest,” Gandalf smiled. 

She did nothing but try and form her words, but was defeated by Bilbo’s glare. She bottled the panic up inside, taking a deep breath. 

Gandalf knew just by looking at her she was on the brink of collapse. It was obvious, but he would let the hobbit care for the poor woman. He must away and take care of… things. 

Bilbo bid Gandalf farewell, walking him to the door as the woman closed her eyes, running a hand through her rich chestnut brown hair. 

Both hobbit and wizard had a feeling there was more to this woman than her wounds. 

Over the next eleven months, Everest grew and morphed into a woman of culture and manners. But she never forgot the world and supposed family she once had. 

Bilbo had also discovered Everest, or Ever as she preferred, was bilingual. The second language she knew often left her lips, most often when she didn’t want him to hear her grumblings. 

“Everest, would you grab a tea set from the cupboard please?” Bilbo called, peeking his head into the den. 

She was usually found inside, reading one of his many books as she sat in his chair, a small pair of reading glasses perched on her button nose. Glancing up, she smiled at the hobbit and nodded her head. After her first day of healing, she barely used her voice, only to call for medicine or Bilbo’s company. 

Over the months the two became closer and found a rhythm, cooking for each other and keeping the little hobbit hole clean and homely. And it was a delight to have her company. She was easy to please and often did more listening than speaking. Bilbo didn’t mind, who would? She was always there to comfort him. To the hobbit, it seemed more like he was caring for an elder feline, who appreciated what it had without begging for more like a kit would. 

Everest placed a bookmark into the book’s pages, closing it gently. Standing, she moved as quietly as a mouse to the kitchen to grab the tea set. Pulling it from the mantle and placing it smoothly the counter, she raised a pad of paper, writing a quick message. 

_ ‘Chamomile or Raspberry?’ _

Bilbo thought a moment, quickly agreeing to raspberry tea before watching her prepare it. Everest was shaky in her left arm and leg, but he knew better to judge her for that. Her wounds had healed, not beautifully but healed nonetheless, leaving behind only the scars. 

Over the long months, he noticed how she constantly wore a shawl over her arms and shoulders, hiding her skin from prying eyes. In public, she wore thick stockings and a heavy coat, hair down to cover her neck and left temple. She was never very confident with her scars exposed. So, Bilbo acted. 

He had purchased her handcrafted dresses, made with a specific pattern to hide her skin from the scrutiny of others. Bilbo had given it to her on her given birthday. 

Since she couldn’t remember anything but her name, age and small things like her favorite tea, they celebrated her birth on the day she came into Bilbo’s care. 

She was now 21 if you must know. 

But in the comfort of home Everest wore a short sleeve dress with a lovely blue corset. A neat white apron wrapped tenderly around her hips, smart black travel boots and stockings adorning her feet. 

Sighing happily, Bilbo sat down at the dining table and prepared the teacups, tidying the table. Presenting the tea to Bilbo, Everest scurried into the kitchen and pulled a fish plate from the oven, peppering it with lemon and spice. 

Returning to the dining hall, she made herself comfortable and began to prepare a plate for Bilbo when she was stopped by a knocking on the door. She turned to Bilbo in question, who gave her the same expression. Quickly standing, she wrote a second message swiftly. 

_ ‘I will see who it is. It may be the butcher, I did buy a roast and turkey for tomorrow night,’ _

Everest dusted her skirt off and promptly went to the door, forgetting to grab her shawl from the hook on the wall. 

Opening said oak door with a bright smile, she found herself staring down on a small man… a dwarf? Thanks to Bilbo she was taught all about the world, the cultures, and religions, the species. Good and bad. But back to their unexpected visitor. 

The dwarf was bald, tattoos on his bare skin with a thick fur coat over his shoulders. He wore green with iron clasped around his arms and chest tightly. The dwarf stared at her with wide eyes before bowing slightly, his gruff voice echoing in the night air.

“Dwalin, at your service. Is this the Baggins residence?”

Nodding, Everest shifted on her feet and stepped back inviting the dwarf inside. He bowed his head in thanks and stepped in. Bilbo comes to the door in his red robe. The hobbit sputtered a moment before continuing to speak with the dwarf. 

Everest didn’t press Bilbo, merely thinking he had invited company and had forgotten. She watched the dwarf march into the hobbit hole towards the cellar and kitchen, Bilbo on his heels. Smiling faintly, Everest chuckled. It had been a time since she had seen the hobbit so flustered. 

A second knock, more polite and soft hit the door. 

Everest turned and stared. Another visitor? Maybe another dwarf. Everest reached out and opened the door a second time, this time to greet the butcher, two packages in his arms. 

“Here you are, Miss Everest. I hope you invite me to such a fine meal,”

_ ‘Maybe next week, Mr. Blairinton. Thank you,’  _

Nodding the hobbit handed her the parcels and went on his way. 

Closing the door, Everest promptly went to the kitchen to prepare the meal. She had heard of dwarves’ hunger, so she might put the meat to use. Moving quickly she began to prep the roast and turkey. 

A third knock hit the door, much like how the first dwarf presented himself. It was heavy and strong, but polite in an odd way. Everest peaked from the kitchen door to watch Bilbo scurry to the door, conversing with a new dwarf. Shaking her head, Everest continued to cook, mashing potatoes and chopping carrots. With the roast and turkey finally in the oven, there were four dwarves in their company. 

Everest grabbed a tea set and started to create a batch of chamomile tea for the four, hoping to tie them over with biscuits and sweets until the meal was ready. 

Manners, pleasantries and well-fed quest came first as Bilbo said. No matter the lot. 

She occasionally watched as Bilbo ran back and forth as she cooked, reminding her of a chicken running around without its head. She laughed. Tonight would be… interesting to say the least. 

Unwittingly, she had drawn the attention of the eldest dwarf currently in their home. The dwarf watched her quietly from the kitchen door as she bustled around, humming in a voice he thought no woman could possess. To his aging ears, her voice seemed mellow and deep. Much like a dwarrows, but she clearly was human. 

“S’cuse me,” The female stopped her chopping for a stew to turn towards the elder dwarf, her eyes a dove grey. “I couldn’t help but smell that heavenly scent emanatin’ from this here kitchen. What are ye doin’ lassy?”

Everest smiled taking a small pad of paper from her pocket with a bit of charcoal. Writing promptly, she presented a small note, reading: 

_ ‘Hello and welcome to our humble abode. I am one of the two residents in this hobbit hole. My name is Everest Kirkland. I am sorry for Bilbo’s--,’ _

Balin paused in his reading, glancing at the woman with a small question.  _ Was she his wife? A family friend?  _ The dwarf looked down against to continued his reading. 

‘-- _ actions, he does not do well with surprise visits. As for what I am cooking, I have prepared a roast, turkey, beef stew, mash potatoes, carrots, and several honey-glazed biscuits. Dinner will be done shortly. May I know your name, Sir?’ _

“Balin, at your service my lady,” 

With a sweep, the elder went into a short bow, but a touch of his shoulder made him rise. Everest was smiling, presenting him with a second note. 

_ ‘I am sorry, but as you have noticed I will not speak… it is not... very pleasant,’  _

Balin smiled at her and pressed the note into his pocket. Everest had a sudden thought and turned to the countertop, a tall pot, and cups sitting on a tray. She gently lifted the tray pressed it into Balin’s hands, and he took it, smiling at her childlike manner.

“No, thank ya lass, but I know who will enjoy it. I will be in the dining room if ye need me,” 

Balin took his leave, glancing back to see her return to her cooking. He looked her over briefly, honestly intrigued when his eyes froze in one spot. 

Upon her skin, there were a number of scars he could not comprehend. Only in warriors had he seen such scars. These scars twisted and curled, taking the color of a deep rageful red. Balin’s eyes followed the scars all the way up to her neck and only dreaded what lay under her corset and skirt. No, such scars were not meant for one so young.

He exited the kitchen with a glint of worry turning into a fire in his eyes. He would tell Dwalin of this, and by tonight know if she was being treated the way he feared. 

Setting the tea down on a table inside the dining hall, Balin noted most of the company had arrived. All but one of them that is. Taking a seat, he exhaled slowly and brushed his beard, smoothing it down as he thought about their odd little host and his human friend.

Not ten minutes later the lass came out with two large platters, decorated with carrots, peppers, and mushrooms. Setting it down in front of the rowdy company, she moved back briskly to the kitchen and brought several other trays out, spreading them out quickly. 

“Who’s that?” A younger dwarf, Kili, asked his twin, Fili.

“Don’t know, you see her arm?” 

The woman froze, her eyes widening as she realized her attire. Balin shot a hand out and slapped the boys on the head. The brothers flinched and rubbed the spot in which Balin had struck, but his attention now focused on the woman. She had stepped back and was tucking her arms behind her back, trying to hide them. Catching her eye, Balin smiled apologetically. 

“I’m sorry for ‘em lass, they don’t know of what they speak,”

Balin watched as she nodded slowly in understanding. Backing away, she backed away and out of the room. Again he hit the boys, hissing under his breath.

“Show some courtesy! T’is disrespectful to make yer host uncomfortable in their own home!”

“I’m sorry, we just found it odd--” Kili began. She returned from the hall, wearing a light shawl over her arms and neck, covering every inch of skin. Turning they watched her go back into the kitchen before continuing their hushed conversation.

“--that a human like her would have such scars,” Fili finished, lowering his head quickly to watch the woman return and present the fifth plate. 

“Balin, what have they done? Do ye know what has happened?” Gloin asked softly, seeing the shawl around her. 

“The boys spoke of somethin’ they should not have. No, but I’ve an idea,” Balin growled. 

Dori and his brothers watched the woman as she prepared a heaping plate for each, most busy cheering and laughing to notice the plates appearing before them. And if they did, they thanked her. Maybe a bit rowdy but they have at least the fundamentals of manners down. 

Dwalin watched her as she stepped up beside the Bilbo fellow. She reached out to rub his shoulder, but the hobbit ripped his shoulder from her touch. He held his hands out and tilted his head down. Folding his fingers down he pointed his index fingers at the ceiling taking a deep breath, arms still extended to keep her at a distance. 

The hobbit hissed quietly to her, waving his hands wildly. Dwalin furrowed his brow as he watched the two the hobbit continuously kept her from touching him. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, casting his gaze over the group. 

A look of frustration came off him in waves as he peered over the dwarves. She too looked out over the sea of hairy men, a tender smile on her face as she did so. She held no hatred in her eyes, nor the frustration of their presence. 

Dwalin was glad, oddly. He didn’t care for the hobbit, but the lass had found a small hold in his rough exterior. A sweet little thing like her was no trouble. She looked upon them with a mother’s love. 

Dwalin felt a miniature smile spread across his lips. 

A snarl replacing it a moment later. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING   
This chapter hints at abuse! DON'T COME FOR ME PLEASE ABOUT BILBO AND EVEREST YET. I HAVE A PLAN.   
PATIENCE GRASSHOPPERS

Dwalin watched as the hobbit suddenly take the lass’s arm and drag her from the room. Everest had followed with unsteady feet, tripping over her skirt. Unwittingly exposing her calves. Dwalin examined the flesh and replayed the image of it in his mind after she vanished down the hall with the hobbit. The hobbit hadn’t stopped his quiet hissing even as the two left the room.

Closing his eyes, Dwalin replayed the image in his head. Her left calf was coated with scars curling around each other. Had he not known any better he would have thought her a burn victim. But the skin not as smooth as it should have been. It was rigid and bumped inward and out. As if ripped and repaired repeatedly during the healing process.

A hand clapped down onto Dwalins’ shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts. He looked up to the eldest of the Ri brothers. Dori.

“Dwalin, the lass--” 

Nori lurched from behind Dori, a look of concern on his face. 

“The hobbit dragged her off!”

Dwalin looks to Dori. Dori was a worrier, and a woman would easily fall under his wing even for the briefest of encounters. It was a moral of his. 

“The hobbit... I don’t like how he grabbed the lass,” Dori spoke softly, but Dwalin understood.

The warrior dwarf was on his feet in a heartbeat. Dori and Nori followed drawing the attention of the company. Balin made an attempt to distract the others if only a moment before telling them what transpired, as well as his suspicions. 

Balin would regret that decision later. 

The house was silent a moment before each dwarf hurried to assist their hostess. Who knew what the hobbit would do? They didn’t know this hobbit, nor trusted him.

Dwalin leads the main three down the hall, seeing a light shining from a door at the end of the hall. Reaching it, Dwalin yanked on the door handle. The door had been locked. 

“Dwalin--” 

Said dwarf ignored the elder Ri. He yanked, hoping it would pop open like a cheap lock. It didn’t. The door was solid oak, heavy and had a sturdy bolt. Kicking it down would be better. 

“I’m sure the Hobbit would never,” Ori fretted, “He seems like such a--” 

The company appeared behind the three, Balin and Oin attempting to keep them a distance. 

“Step back, we don’t know for sure--”

“Knock it down--” 

“If he lays a hand on her--” 

“Dwalin!” 

A sharp cry rang over the gruff voices of the dwarves. Each froze in their actions and words, staring at each other or the door... With a swift kick, Dwalin sent the door away from the group into the room, landing with an enormous thud. Each dwarrow shoved themselves into the doorway to peer inside, but Dwalin blocked the path.

He stood frozen, staring at the scene in horror. 

The lass was on the ground, sprawled out with a chair toppled over to her right. She had her shoulders pressed against a chest, a look of shock on her face. Or was it fear? Dwalin couldn’t tell, he was to overwhelm with rage. 

Dwalin saw red. 

Pearls of white spilled from her eyes as she clutched her chest in pain. 

The hobbit stood on the other side of the room, his owlish eyes staring down at his hands. He looked sick to his stomach, but at the same time look as if he had kicked a dying dog.

Fili moved first, barreling towards Bilbo. Kili right behind his brother with a grim frown. The hobbit stumbled back in fear, snapping out of his daze, tripping over his feet until he was in the farthest corner of the room. 

They wouldn’t hurt the hobbit, no, the brother would merely keep him away from their hostess. 

It may be a good idea to take her outside the shire to a man village. It was clear, to the dwarves at least, she wasn’t safe in this house. Or so they assumed.

Dwalin and Balin went to the woman’s side, helping her stand. She was clutching her shoulder, clearly in shock. But she was moving her lips, unspoken words trapped in her throat. A look of some sort locked in her benign eyes.

“Don’t worry lass, he’s not goin’ ta hurt ya. Not again,” Balin comforted, rubbing her back. 

Never before had Bilbo been so  _ frustrated _ . No, he had not hit her, not purposefully. He had ranted, ranted about the dwarves in his home, eating all his food, trailing mud into his carpet, tossing his plates around like they were unbreakable. 

He was working himself up so much, Everest only wanted to calm him down. Hold him, as he had her in her time of healing. She had reached for him, talking softly to comfort him. It had been done in a flash, no one would have had known if the dwarves hadn’t of come in. 

The gentle hobbit had merely waved his hands a bit too vigorously, to wildly, and then-- She had toppled over, hitting her side against the chair and ripping her shawl off as she fell. The hobbit did indeed struck her, but not purposefully. The dwarves must know that, right? Bilbo was a sweetheart, he_ would never_ do that. _Has_ _never_ done that! His forearm had slammed her chest, and seeing she was weakest in holding her balance, she had easily lost her footing and toppled backward. 

“Come ‘ere lassy, let’s see if yer alright.” Oin smiled leading Everest to a rocking chair. 

In shock, she sat followed the healer, dropping her hand from her chest. She was lost inside herself, replaying the moment inside her mind. 

It had been entirely her fault, all her fault. God, she should have let the hobbit be to his space. He didn’t want her touching him in the first place, why hadn’t she listened? She exhaled slowly, hiccuping here and there.

Oin examined her collar critically. It was turning a pale yellow, other than that a faint blue hinting at her collar bone where the brunt of the hit struck. Oin nodded and present a green salve from his coats, gently rubbing it in before covering it with a bandage in his breast pocket. A thought struck him. 

“Lass, if it is alright with ye… I would like to see yer scars,” 

The dwarves all hustled to get out of the room, or turn away. Some actually join the Durin brothers in cornering the hobbit so he could not see her. They continuously stared at the wall or the hobbit, making Bilbo shrink in on himself and shiver in fear. 

Everest winced back into her seat, unaware of the hobbits treatment, a dread beyond any Oin had seen presenting itself. Everest blinked her eyes and wiped her tears away, chewing at her right cheek before inhaling deeply. But, in the end, she closed her eyes and nodded in agreement. 

Standing, she turned and allowed Oin to work.

The unneeded dwarven company all but ran out of the room, leaving only the Durin sons, Dwalin, Oin, Dori, and Nori. 

Untying her corset laces, the healer let it go once he finished. Everest held the dress to her chest a moment. She had never shown anyone… so why these dwarves?... The tender reassuring touch of the one named Oin called her back to reality. Yes, a healer, A proper healer at that. She exhaled and inhaled quickly before dropping her top. 

It pooled around her feet, leaving her in a pearl white slip. Removing the small slip from her shoulders, Oin gasped sharply. Dwalin, who with the others had cornered the hobbit, turn back ready to assist Oin if he needed assistance. 

“Oin, is everything--”

He regretted his action. 

The scars were all Dwalin could see. It was just like watching the fire dance in the fireplace. Her skin morphed into horrendous shapes and sizes, denting inward and out. By Oin’s reaction and covered mouth, it had not been treated properly, but well enough evade infection. 

It was half-assed in other terms. If she had been cared for  _ properly _ , she wouldn’t have  _ half _ the scars. 

“Lads, keep the halfling there,” Dwalin demanded, stepping closer to the healer and woman. 

He stopped beside Oin, unable to tear his eyes away much like the healer. Everest began to shift in discomfort. She knew someone else had turned around and wasn’t sure if she was alright with the thought. 

Dwalin finally able to regain himself, turned to the healer in question. He made a gesture to touch Everest. Oin shook his head violently but motioned towards Everest, who waited patiently but nervously. 

She had one arm around her front to cover herself as the second clutching the slip around her hips. From the way she shifted from time to time, both could tell she wasn’t comfortable in the current situation. Dwalin bit his cheek and glanced at Oin. The healer inhaled shakily before asking softly.

“My Lady, may I as well as Dwalin touch yer back?” 

Oin whispered. His voice was so soft as if speaking with a child. Dwalin nodded at his tactic. 

They watched her shoulders tense immensely, fear to engulf her entirely. She shook violently as her quickened breath filled the air. Everest focused on her thoughts, avoiding the darkest and sitting on the lone island within her mind. 

Why did he wish to touch it? It was an odd request. Letting one was enough to have her skin crawling, to have her shame and past torture prodded at? No, it wasn’t a good idea. Bad bad bad-- 

She inhaled deeply once more, quieting her panic. The healer was here, and the dwarves had shown her nothing but respect. They were concerned… and maybe this would be a step to recovery for her. 

The hobbit became inquisitive and demanded if she was alright, what they were doing to her. He was silenced with the threat of the silent warriors. Each had chosen to shift their weapons in a warning.

Minutes past as she calmed herself, Dwalin and Oin waiting on her reply. Her head nodded in agreement, albeit slowly. A new voice was heard as her head nodded. 

_ “He-may,”  _

Realizing the deep voice belonged to Everest, Dwalin reached out hesitantly before pressing his fingertips to her warm skin. It was rigid and calloused, nothing like most scars he had. It was red or pink in some areas, the way Everest flinched revealing it was painful to touch. Dwalin felt his heartbreak with each second he looked upon the woman. 

Had she endured the suffering under the hobbits care or before such a time? Had the hobbit struck her before? Was it like an abuser, the vicious cycle of beating, apologizing and pausing the abuse only begin again? Did she believe it normal for such actions? Was she accustom to such punishments, if she endured any punishments? He had thought hobbits incapable of such vicious acts! 

Dwalin stopped his examination when Everest twitched under her touch, his hand having traveled to her ribs and midsection. His palm was pressed flat, the scars under the pressure of his touch. The scar mainly encompassed the left side, the outside occasionally dipping towards the center of her figure. The outside and part of the inside of her arm, her left temple, neck, and shoulder, her ribs and hips, a small break at her stomach. Her entire calf was scarred on the leftmost side, he assumed the scar ran down her thigh and onto her foot perhaps. 

It was horrific to imagine. His mind didn’t allow such imagery to enter his minds eye.

Pulling back, Dwalin turned his dark eyes to the wall of dwarves casing the hobbit from escape. The dwarf took slow, heavy steps and somehow found himself staring down on the shivering hobbit, inside the dwarf circle as Oin examined Everest for new wounds. 

He would find none.

“What have ye done to the lass, Halfling?” 

Bilbo shifted on his feet, under the deadly gaze of the warrior.

“N-Nothing! I would never hurt Everest! I-- I--” 

“So you didn’t just hit her, didn’t cause the scars!” Dwalin roared, his face morphing into one of absolute fury. 

The hobbit shrank further into the wall, shaking his head in denial. 

“No! G-Gandalf f-found her, she was near death by a beast of metal--” 

“You expect me to believe such lies?” Dwalin snarled. 

Taking a threatening step closer, he was suddenly held back by Nori, keeping the warrior from squashing the poor hobbit. 

“If you don’t believe me ask Gandalf!” Bilbo snapped suddenly, his eyes glazed over in fury the few tears that were there completely gone. 

Shoving passed the princes, the hobbit exited the room in a huff. The dwarves would not have good terms with the hobbit on this journey, but Dwalin thought nothing of him any longer. Gentlefolk such as he does not belong in the wilds. 

Everest turned her gaze toward Oin, who was assisting her back into her dress. The slip around her shoulders again, the corset being tied as the wall of dwarves stayed where they were, facing the wall until they received an ok. 

“It’ll be good as new in the morning lass, don’t you fret now. Come, I am sure Thorin has arrived,” The healer smiled, trying to get her mind from what just transpired. 

Nodding Everest adjusted her corset, noting the cool cream soothing her bruised collar. Once everything was in its places, she had the few in the room turn around fully. She pulled her notebook from the floor and wrote carefully, dutifully showing the words to each present dwarf, especially Oin and Dwalin. 

_ ‘He didn’t do it purposefully, Gandalf will explain. Please, do not claim Bilbo an abuser. He is not such a thing.’  _

No dwarf believed her. 

Walking with the help of the elder dwarf, Everest gave each dwarf a small smile in thanks before quietly wobbling to the kitchen. Oin left the moment he saw the hobbit. Against his better judgment, the healer returned to the company. 

Everest found the hobbit hunched over in his seat, a hand pressed to his eyes as his shoulder quivered. No one expected him to hug her so apologetically. Bilbo wrapped her in his arms desperately, crying into her ear as she supported his weight. The woman whispered softly, stroking his head tenderly. 

The company snorted collectively, believing this the beginning of the supposed abusive cycle. Around and around it would go, the forgiveness before the beating. 

Everest was more than likely defending the halfling as to not involve them. She was a shy lass and one that seemed to look out for others than herself. That was a dangerous trait in such a dangerous situation. Returning to their meal, the began a softer chatter, debating in quiet Khuzdul or Iglishmêk. Everyone froze after a rather loud knock that rang through the air. 

“He is here,” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! AGAIN, HINTS AT ABUSE AND A FEW OTHERS THINGS.   
IM GETTING TO EXPLAINING BILBO AND EVERESTS' PREDICAMENT.   
PATIENCE   
THANK YOU

The night went smoothly from there on out. If you could say that. Bilbo was ‘introduced’, although being rudely evaluated and berated by the newest dwarf. She wasn’t fond of that moment and doubted Bilbo could handle another round of underhanded insults. Standing beside the closed door, Everest would have been ignored had it not been for the tattooed dwarf and his brother, maybe, presented her to him. His name was Balin, and there was Dwalin. With similar names, she had to assume they were related in some way. She curtsied shakily before rising and writing a note. 

The apparent leader rose a brow at the odd introduction and took the note, reading it over swiftly. 

_ ‘Greetings Master Dwarf, it is a pleasure to meet you. Come, your dinner awaits you,’  _

Lifting his gaze from the paper, he scanned her face. Everest smiled as warmly as she could and gestured down the hall. Nodding stiffly, the dwarf made no comment to the scars around her exposed neck, nor the quiver of her left leg as she led him down the corridor. 

The night went from then on as it should, like both you and I expect. But sweet little Everest hadn’t a clue what to prepare herself for. After all, she didn’t know anything about the vast world of Middle Earth. Besides reading all holed up in her library, she only knew myths and the species. She hadn’t much experience with the outside world. And when she did go out of The Shire, it wasn’t a pleasant welcoming in which she expected. 

Drawing from her thoughts, Everest found the dwarves screeching at each other about ‘those aren’t the brightest’ bit. Cringing, she looked over Bilbo and this ‘Thorin’. Both looked prepared to box every male’s ear to silence them or scream above the chaos. Now that would most definitely not end well. Especially for Bilbo. 

Standing from her seat, Everest raised her hand in question, much like a student would for their teacher. It took a minute for the dwarves to see her raised palm, but once they did, they elbowed those around them and nodded toward her person. Once all eyes were on her, she smiled gently and raised a small note. The closest to her read it aloud, that being Nori and his siblings. 

“She says, well wrote: ‘I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. And I am certain this ruckus has caused some turmoil, but be at ease, it was not a ‘shot’ at your honor or your family title and standing. Now, I believe Master Thorin is awaiting your attention’,” Nori read aloud earning a kind smile from the female.

The dwarven group nodded with few mutters before turning their eyes to Thorin, who in turn stared at the female at the opposing side of the table. 

Suddenly under his scrutiny, she bowed her head in respect as well as fear, stepping back and out of the room. From his spot at the table, Bombur watched the woman take a seat in the den, where she adorn her reading glasses and began to read a rather large book. 

“I never ‘ave seen a lass beside  ** _Amad_ ** get an entire room of dwarrow to shut up long enough to talk before! ” Kili laughed glancing at his brother as Fili nodded in agreement.

“She’s quiet but gets her point across loud ‘nd clear!”

“Miss Everest is a woman of many talents from what I see and hear. She is much like a hobbit--” Gandalf inputted, but bit his tongue. He winced as his words caused the dwarves to stir and begin to discuss whether or not to take her instead of Bilbo. 

The hobbit whipped around and glared harshly at the wizard, fuming. Gandalf looked away, fingers drumming against his staff.

“She’s maybe a woman but from her… past, I’m sure she can handle a few orcs,” Nori grinned, Ori nodding along absently as he wrote vigorously in his book. 

“Nay, she’s but a gentle lass. I doubt she can lift a sword!” Dori countered. 

Bifur began to speak, everyone listening intently. Bofur grinning the entire time. 

“That’s a good idea Bifur!” His brother grinned, slapping his shoulder gently. “Call the lass in here! We have a few questions,” 

Thorin frown and looked over his company. Each had become attached to the woman, even thinking to take her in the hobbits place. He, of course, would not take either willingly. A grocer hobbit was useless and a woman even more so. An apparently crippled one at that.

But the dragon knew him and the scent of dwarves. 

A thought gnawed at the back of his mind. If she has been here long enough, she may have the scent of a hob--  _ What are you thinking you fool, the woman wouldn’t last a day in the wilds! _

Shaking his head, Thorin watched as the woman stepped into the room. She had rested her arms in front of her, wrapping them around herself and looking over the room. Her left arm catching Thorin’s gaze more than the other. 

He had been informed of her scars but had yet to see them. Thorin only caught glimpses from her exposed neck and her hand, and occasionally her calf. He didn’t regret it, he just now knew she was weaker than he first expected. But maybe… stronger than he thought as well.

The woman was guided by Balin, who sat her beside himself, resting his hand on her shoulder gently with a kind smile. 

“Miss Everest, we were wonderin’. Do ye know how to fight?” 

Her confused face lit up like a candle, and she quickly began to write down her response but stopped. This ‘Everest’ looked over the group with uncertainty before diving in for her idea. The cogs in her head spun, Thorin could see them spinning. She inhaled softly before setting aside her pad and paper. And then, she spoke. 

_ “I-had-learned-hand-to-hand-combat-when-I-was-seventeen….My-grandfather,-from-what-I-remember-,was-a-soldier-in-an-army….He-often-taught-me-his-tricks-... I-don’t-know-much,-but-just-enough-to-care-for-myself….Maybe-another-if-needed,” _

Thorin felt his jaw drop at her voice. It was low, rugged. He imagined it like a fire, crackling when a new log added to its hungry flame. He replayed the voice within his mind, imagining it singing a strong, dwarvish melody. 

What an intoxicating thought. 

Snapping from his deranged thoughts, Thorin fixed his cold glare upon her once more.

Everest rubbed her thumb across her index fingers, at the joint, repeatedly as she spoke, pencil and paper set neatly on the table.

Bilbo was openly staring at Everest now. She had  _ never _ spoken in front of strangers, and barely in front of him. How could she have the courage to talk to complete strangers and not to him? Was it because she didn’t want to, didn’t trust him? Bilbo fidgeted and picked at his thumb. 

It was probably because she wanted to get used to talking with others, be more social and more mannered and polite. Yes, that must be it. Everest and he… were close. He considered the petit woman dear to him, a sister. Maybe his daughter… 

“Have ye fought an orc before lass?” Gloin called, expressing his concerns. 

Bilbo winced, that hadn’t been a fun day. 

_“Once….I-had-to-travel-out-of-The-Shire-to-Weathertop...That’s-where-I-meet-the-foul-things...I-had-never-seen-such-a-disgusting-creature,”_ Everest cringed at the memory, unconsciously crossing her ankle over the other rubbing the faint scar across it. 

“What is your weapon of choice?” Thorin questioned, making the girl jump. 

He had been silent most of the questioning, watching her manner and handle of the attention and barrage of various questions. So far she had done well enough, but she was beginning to shrink down into her seat like a child would escape the attention of the adults. Turning her gaze towards the dwarf king, Everest held her knuckles nervously and smiled. 

_ “My-hands-are-my-choice, but-if-I-had-a-weapon-it-would-be-a-small-axe,”  _

Nodding at her words, a few grinned in approval at her choice of weaponry. In their mind, she was already apart of this company. Forget the hobbit, take the girl! 

Thorin had his doubts, and Dwalin had his concerns. The elder company members were on the fence. The hobbit and woman were tied to one another. Although Everest had experience with orcs, she was still one of the gentler folks of this world. She would be but the better of two evils. 

Now came the big kahuna. 

“If the hobbit does not agree with this adventure, would you?” The king pushed, an icy storm of blue glaring her down. 

Everest focused on the king. Hoh god, everything in her body told her to deny this. Say no to the dwarves inviting her on a journey she may never return from. 

_ Don’t do it you fool. This is not a fantasy where you will come out a hero, you will die! But maybe... That would be best. No?  _

Inhaling softly, she thought about his proposition. She moved hre mind along her own pain. How they too suffered. Her heart, still sore from the loss of her own world, her own home, went out to the company and urged her to follow it. 

_ “Yes.” _

“Everest!” Bilbo hissed. 

The hobbit lunged for her, hands clutching her dress tightly in his hands. The dwarves snarled. Had they not been clear enough earlier? Bifur, who was closest besides Nori, was about to rip the halfling from her but was stopped by her next action. 

Everest pressed a hand to the hobbit’s head, shooing away the worrisome dwarf. She had told them he was of no threat to her, yet they still snarled and glared at him like he was a warg ready to bite her in two. 

Bilbo grasped desperately to her skirt and blubbered a moment, but stopped to stare up at her with fear. 

“Don’t do this. Not for those you barely know,” 

Her heart broke at the distressed hobbit. Bilbo had become the closest thing to family she had in her time in The Shire. Taking the role of her father as well as companion, he listened and cared for her. And here she was abandoning him to go frolic into some adventure with dwarves. But she had too, she didn’t want them suffering her own fate. 

Everest knelt down, removing the hobbit’s hand from her skirts to hold them in her own. Bilbo stared down on her now, watching her with a sorrow great enough to overwhelm anyone who dared to look into his eyes. The dwarves let them settle the matter between themselves, whispering quietly to one another in their mother tongue as the younger ones watched with opened eyes and ears. They didn’t want to miss this new development!

_ “I-had-no-home-when-you-found-me-at-death’s-door….You-took-me-in-and-I-will-never-forget-your-kindness. But-I-will-not-deny-them-the-same-kindness-you-gave-me,” _

Her voice rumbled and roared, grumbling with each syllable. But even in its horrendous melody, the dwarves of Erebor could hear the compassion and promise in her voice. 

But they could also pull the pain from those very words. But no pain from her decision, the pain of possibly leaving the dreaded gentle-hobbit behind. 

Dwalin right then wished to bash the hobbits head into the table to quiet his whimpering. He was a man, why weep so? It was not his decision to make. 

_ “Don’t-fret-Bilbo-I-will-be-home-when-their--- our-mission-is-complete,”  _

Bilbo inhaled deeply, yanking himself away from her tender grip. The hobbit stormed out of the kitchen and slammed his bedroom door closed behind him. They could hear it all the way down the hall, to the left from inside the kitchen. 

Everest stayed where the hobbit last stood a moment before rising to her feet, looking over the table at the dwarven company and wizard. She had a look of, what was it? Regret? No, maybe resignation? Whatever it was, she had accepted Bilbo’s reaction and chose to take her own path. And the dwarves were lucky enough it was with them. Better them than the hobbit. 

Dwalin rubbed his hands together in slight confusion. He didn’t mind her company, but the fact she gave up her life with the hobbit-- Maybe it was for the best. The fool had hurt her, in their presence no less. But then again, this was the only opportunity she had to escape. But why had the hobbit begged her to stay when he was the one pushing her away? Shaking his head, Dwalin leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms. 

Whatever her reasoning and motivation, he would not question it. She would be safe with them. He would make sure of that. 

“Miss Everest?” Oin called. 

Everest turned her gaze to the old dwarf and beamed down on him. Taking her seat at the end of the table, she urged Thorin to continue his thought and to possibly pass her the contract. About to do so, Thorin paused. 

“You realize there is a chance to never come back from this journey if you are to join us,” 

Everest nodded and continued to smile, unwavering in her decision. Taking a quill, she neatly wrote her name on the sheet, ignoring the few eyes watching with disbelief or anger. 

It was more than likely they didn’t want a woman on the journey, and one that would more than likely be a burden than a help. But her role was to be a burglar, and so that is what she would be. If anything but, she would be a burglar. 

Everest turned and tapped Nori on the shoulder, who sat beside her, and asked a question that shocked the ensemble of dwarves. 

_ “May-we-leave-the-contract-for-Bilbo? I-am-certain-he-will-sway-in-his-decision…”  _

Gloin snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at his boots before turning his hard glare to his King. Thorin nodded in agreement. Gloin would care for his own and not take the weight of the lass if she would be a burden. She signed the contract, she was legally bound to their group, but that didn’t make her one of them. 

Thorin frowned, clenching his fist and rolling his wrist, letting the now dull pop comfort him. Thorin would not care for the human. Gandalf would. He was the one to call on the hobbit to be the burglar. But the woman took his place. Whatever the case, he would not care for her. 

IN haling deeply, he reminded himself. The  _ woman _ took the  _ hobbit’s _ place. 

Scenario after scenario filled his mind, the orcs tearing away what little protection she had, tearing at her flesh and shredding her clothing. 

The wargs latching onto her torso and draining the life from her bit by bit. 

Goblins sinking their claws into her skin, sating their hunger--

He couldn’t finish the thought. 

The possibilities were endless, the images flashing in his mind, but Balin’s tender hand on his shoulder brought him back. Realizing he still held the contract from her reach, Thorin slid it towards her callously.

Smiling she took the contract placing it beside the tea set before quickly excusing herself. 

The dwarves would need a place to sleep tonight, and they only had so many rooms. Preparing what she could, she returned to find the dwarves gathered in the den, Gandalf of talking with Bilbo in his room. 

Everest perched herself against the door leading into the said den and listened quietly. The company had begun to sing, few with a smoking pipe in hand, but forgotten as they sang. Closing her eyes, she merely listened. The dwarven folk sang deeply, solemnly but not sorrowfully. Everest smiled weakly, tapping her knuckles against the door frame when the song came to an end. 

The youngest looked at her first, smiling as he clutched his book to his chest. Ori approached hesitantly before stopping before her. She spoke softly, tenderly. 

_ “I-have-a-few-rooms-if-you-would-like-to-spend-the-night-there-with-a-few-others. I-am-sure-you-are-tired,”  _

Ori nodded in appreciation for her thoughtfulness, a pink tint hitting his ears and cheeks as he gathered his brothers. With only three open dorms, which included her own, Everest wasn’t able to supply all-around comfort for all of her quests. So to make up for this, she made the den as cozy as possible. She can’t have unrested quests, that would be rather impolite of her to not take full care of them. As she made sure each dwarf had his own corner or couch, she was stopped. 

No one had physically touched her, but she noticed how Thorin had made himself comfortable beside the fireplace. He had no pillow or quilt, just his coat, and furs. He rested on his side, back to the fire to keep warm as the cool night welcomed them. 

She shuffled forward and gently touched his shin, rousing him from his doze. Thorin watches her a moment before sighing. 

“Go to sleep woman,” 

She hesitated. The way he spoke was more like commanding she leave him alone, but she went against this. Everest tapped his shin once again, waving for him to follow her. 

Growling, the dwarf turned away. Thorin wasn’t bothered again surprisingly. He had at least 10 peaceful minutes of dazed unconsciousness, shifting from awake to asleep from time to time. 

But just as he was in the hold of sleep, Thorin felt tender hands guide his body upward and slightly away from the fire. Small hands supported his head and shoulders so he wasn’t dropped onto the ground. Thorin didn’t make any signs to which gave away he was awake. Keeping his breath even, he waited for the being’s next move. His head was lifted for a plush pillow to lay beneath his ear, then, a thick wool blanket was laid across his shoulders to cover him completely. 

From that moment on, Thorin knew it was the human girl, Everest was it? It was clear to him she had healed well enough since the time of her attack.

No, Thorin had not easily forgotten the tale Gandalf told him, nor the visit he paid to the beast. At the time, Thorin had thought it a fantasy, Gandalf often spun his words to tantalise the adventurous side of beings. But when he locked eyes upon the beast he knew no one deserved such a death. He braved it gaping jaws, finding it made out of metal as Gandalf stated. It was unlike anything he had seen. 

Later Gandalf spoke of the woman he had saved and brought to careful care of hobits. Thorin hadn’t thought to find the woman here, and alive. But, he had no proof this woman was the one Gandalf saved. 

The beast haunted his dreams occasionally, his imagination creating its hideous roars and grunts. It had often chased him down as he attempted to save the poor woman from its clutches. He had failed each time and was forced to watch as it devoured her. Iron jaws unhinging to inhale her, her blood dripping from its teeth, her dead eyes staring at him as if he hadn’t done all he could to save her. 

It was a foolish dream. He had never met the woman until this night… but she fit the description of the one Gandalf saved. Thorin shouldn’t be affected to this degree with someone he barely knew. 

He opened his eyes just in time to see her go towards Ori’s dorm. Thorin drew himself upward and gingerly set aside the blanket, following after the female. He didn’t quite trust her with the youngest of his members. Everest took a quick left and padded down a hall, the dwarf close behind. 

Thorin noted how she didn’t need to duck down as she walked to halls. She just barely had an inch between the hallway frame and the top of her head. She wasn’t very tall for a human, was she?

Everest stopped at a brown door and knocked twice before it opened to reveal Dori. He allowed her entry and Thorin followed quickly, catching the door with his fingers to leave a crack. Peering through the said crack, he listened. 

“Thank ye lass. Ye didn’t ‘ave to do all this,” Dori grinned pouring himself a large cup--- a mug? Had she brought such a tall glass for him to drink his tea? 

Everest, who took her time tidying the shelf, shook her head taking her paper and writing a message Thorin could not read. Why was she back to writing if she was more comfortable speaking? Thorin narrowed his eyes. 

“Aye. Ye ‘ave been kind to us. I thank ye for that,” Nori suddenly piped, stretching himself out across the bed. 

Everest moved from the shelf to stand beside the bed. Crossing her arms she tapped her foot impatiently against the floor, Ori peering from behind her. The thief groaned and rolled to the left, allowing room for his little brother Ori. Stepping closer once the young one was comfortable, Everest took Ori’s book and laid it on the nightstand beside the bed. 

All three had shed of a few layers of clothing, laying them across the floor. She merely picked them up and put them into their perspective piles for the brothers. Thorin’s brow raised. She had noted their travel wear that quickly? 

“Lass, we can handle that! We are dwarrows, not wee pebbles!” Dori sighed, rushing to her aid. 

Shaking her finger, she finished her task and lead the grey-haired dwarf to the couch. Sitting him down, she smiled and returned back to Ori’s side. He was pink in the cheeks. 

Now would be a better time than later to enter the room. Thorin stepped into the room quietly and sat beside Dori, who nodded at his appearance. She took no notice to him, or she chose not to acknowledge him. Passing in her folding, she fidgeted. 

_ “May-I-ask-something-of-you-three?”  _

Back to speaking it seems. It would be aggravating if she switched between the two the entire journey. 

The three brothers nodded, Thorin nodding beside them unintentionally. 

_ “May-you-wake-me-before-dawn? I-am-sure-Bilbo-will-be-too-tired-to-wake. If-not, I-can--” _

“Nay lass. I’ll raise ye from sleep. Where be yer room?” Dori smiled, taking a sip from his tea. 

Turning to the eldest, her eyes flickered over Thorin a moment before she smiled in greeting. Turning her attention back to the eldest dwarf, she lifted her hand and waved it around in a circular motion, and it clicked. These were her courters. Mortification was clear on Dori’s face as Nori cackled in the corner, nearly rolling off the bed. Ori ducked under the covers before shoving them off and hiding his face in his hands. 

Thorin was confused and slightly amused. Why did she give up her room for the three brothers? And risked her own embarrassment if they found her belongings? 

“My Lady! We certainly can not--!” Dori sputtered. 

Everest merely raised her hand, hushing his blubber before calmly replying, a quiver to the beginning of her sentence. 

She was nervous. Was it because of Thorin? More than likely, he hadn’t made the kindest of impressions and made no want or implication he wished to. 

_ “I-insist… I-will-be-in-the-den-with-the-others, maybe-the-hall… Please-do-wake-me, I-want-to-make-us-a-proper-breakfast-before-we-depart… Any-preferences?”  _

Calming, Dori exhaled in defeat. 

“As ye wish lass. Could I possibly have some scones, maybe bacon?” 

“Sausage!” 

“Biscuits and gravy sounds mighty fine,” 

Thorin remained quiet. 

Everest laughed and nodded, stepping towards the door and out into the hall. Turning she said a sweet goodnight before closing the door, leaving the four dwarves in silence. 

“She’s a sweet lass,” Nori declared, propping himself up on his elbow. 

“She is really nice… I wonder if she likes drawing,” Ori murmured ignored by his siblings. He pulled the sheets back over his chest and smiled faintly.

“Do you think she will survive this? Even make it to the mountain?” Dori whispered, glancing at their leader before fiddling with the mug in his hand. 

Thorin stayed quiet, mind rumbling with a typhoon of thoughts. 

When just observing her, she looked so weak. So  _ pathetic _ . But she held this air around her, so inviting and courageous. It was almost too warm. Too sweet. Her smiles were always wide, but she never let them reach her eyes, the few times that warmth did reach them was for a fraction of a second. 

She was broken. 

Or she was simply faking ever action and sweet word she threw their way. More than likely the latter. Another two-faced liar to deal with. 

Wonderful.

He should  _ never _ have allowed her to sign the contract, never even  _ considered _ her as a burglar! She would die at the first sign of conflict! She would be devoured by fear and regret. Regret in signing her name, in going all that way to die by the hands of foul orcs. 

Thorin lowered his head and sighed slowly, although his anger was evident. 

“I should not have allowed her name to lay against that page,” 

Standing the king exited the room, nearly slamming the door shut but stopped. They already had to repair the door Dwalin threw from the hinges, they didn’t need another problem. He closed it gently after a moment, leaving the brothers alone. 

Ori rose his head from the pillow and smiled. 

“She is going to be a great companion,” 


	5. Chapter 5

“Everest, Everest wake up now lass,” 

Swatting a large hand from her shoulder, Everest sighed into her ‘pillow’ peacefully. 

“Come on lass, ye asked me to wake ya,” 

The light taps turned into brief shakes. The hands vanished and came back to tap her cheek gently, trying to rouse her from her daze. Blinking a few times, Everest turned her tired eyes towards a grinning dwarf. A dwarf. 

So last night wasn’t a dream. 

Grumbling, the woman turned her sore neck to the left and let it pop. Oh heavens, how had she done that to herself? Looking down, she found herself on the kitchen floor. Lovely. 

Nori watched the woman as she sat upright, correcting her odd position against the wall and floor. From the look off her clothes and the slight puffs of flour on her, she had been preparing for this morns breakfast. 

Everest allowed her bones to reset as she stretched, slowly standing to dust herself off. That’s right, she had started to make the batter for the biscuits, but the dough needed to rise. By now it must be flat. Or had she made the biscuits a mere two hours ago? 

No matter what, insomnia made sure the hours slurred together. 

The gravy was ready and in the oven on dying embers to keep it warm and fresh. The dough was fine, perfectly risen in a small globe in a bowl. The meats had been pulled from the pantry and laid out for her. 

Everest beamed at Nori in a good morning, shuffling to the stove. Cracking her knuckles, she went to work. Grabbing an oven mitt from the counter, she quickly separated the dough into globs and set them side by side in a pan. Pulling the bowl of gravy from the embers she set it on the stone counter she stirred it and added already prepped sausage to the mix, adding spices to give a bit of a kick to the tastebuds. 

“Biscuits and gravy? My favorite!” Nori smirked, nudging the woman in the side as she worked. 

Everest chuckled a dull smile on her lips. Soon after a yawn escaped both her and the dwarf. 

Nori watched her as he moved gracefully about the kitchen, easily pulling numerous bags from the cupboard to carry their breakfast. She wore a dim smile as she worked, seemingly to work on a schedule. Nori wasn’t certain of this smile. 

Being a thief he had noticed she constantly wore a smile, a little too wide or laughed a little too forced. In these quiet moments, he was able to further analyze the woman. She appears happy, and rightly so. Maybe this quest was more of a burden than he first anticipated for the lass. 

The morning went on just like this, Everest rushing to prepare a large but straightforward breakfast for the company while trying not to wake them. An hour before sunrise, the dwarrow began to move, packing their things and cleaning the mess they made. 

Everest had fully prepared the morning meal, dutifully packing it all away for the road when Bombur lumbered in, mouth-watering. Nori had remained in his spot, a comfortable kitchen stool leaning against the wall, all morning. Having packed the night before, he was able to spend his time gathering as much information as he could about their newest member.

So far, she has shown she was earnest and had no intention of poisoning them with greens or any form of venom. But she had… moments. Lapses where she acted strangely. She occasionally stared down at the cutting board, or grumbled to herself about a thing like, ‘no no no, It’s fine…’ Nori brushed it aside, she was more than likely panicking about the journey. 

But the moment Bombur waddled in, Nori claimed the duty of keeping the dwarf from devouring every last delectable food Everest had made. He hadn’t waited this long to get crumbs! But at the end of her packing, she had pulled one of the larger bags and presented them to the round dwarrow. 

Watching Bombur skip-- yes skip-- out, Everest went on and placed a bag in each dwarf’s open palms. Presenting Dwalin with one of the large packages. Moving on her way, she made no note of how they dug around the leather sacks to fix out the delicious honey sugar rolls. 

Looking inside his own, Dwalin found she had snuck in a few extra rolls. Grunting in acknowledgment, he stowed the precious bread into his bag, unable to contain his joy. A simple, miniature grin claiming his face a moment. He did have a sweet tooth after all. But how had she known? Ah, it must be due to his kindness and protective manner the night before. A thank you more likely. 

Happy with her work, Everest stepped back into her quarters, packing herself two separate bags to accommodate all weather and carry any personal items she may need. Wool socks, a winter cloak and dress, thick travel boots and her belt. An extra pair of boots, her stockings, feminine products, a spare dress for warmer weather and her long sleeves and extra overcoats. Tucking leather trousers and coat over the dresses, she began to pack her essentials, as Bilbo called them. Hairbrush, ‘bloody day’ materials, mint leaves, a few needles and an abundance of thread, and the small knife she did own. 

But the most prized possession she kept was a small portrait she had drawn. 

It was of a man and a woman. They wore simple, well-sewn clothing. Bilbo thought they from a high rank in society. Everest thought otherwise for some odd reason. She had seen dozens of men and women dressed this way. On a special occasion, yes, but dressed this way all the same. It was from that far away place she would not recall. 

Had she not known any better she would have thought it all a fantasy. But the people and place were to awe-inspiring to be fake. Everest could recall most of the things. But she would never be able to remember the names. She knew where she came from was somewhere out of reach, but close at hand. Yet she could never return. The people and places had been left behind, but all that they were in name and importance evaded her. She could explain political matters and-- 

She getting ahead of herself, jumbling her thoughts and memories. 

The woman adorns a gorgeous cloud white dress, while the man wore a sleek black suit, a vibrant red slip of fabric around his neck. Their faces were less detail than the rest of the portrait, seeing as Everest couldn’t remember them, or their names. She assumed it was her mother and father. 

Yes, remembering faces and names was a problem, but Everest was so close to knowing them. Knowing herself, even just a bit more. 

Kissing the glass she stowed it between the skirts of her dresses and packed her other items. Pulling her summer cloak over her shoulders, she grinned. 

_ Today is the start of a fine adventure! And one I will surely enjoy. _

~’~*~’~

Everest was provided a gentle horse, thanks to Gandalf’s ties to the Shire. Long ago had they mounted and tied down their supplies. Currently, they rode their ponies, munching breakfast prepared only hours ago. The sun was in the sky, the cool breeze rushing over the company quietly as they talked. 

“Miss Everest, do you think the hobbit will come?” Kili asked his pony trotting next to the girls. 

Everest turned to the brunet. He had done little to interact with her before now. What brought the sudden interest? Nodding her head, Everest focused on the dwarrow instead of her sore backside. Even with the lessons she had from the town rider, she was never good with the pain that was dealt out from hours of riding. 

“Really? Would you bet on it?” Fili smirked wiggling his eyebrows. 

Everest chuckled a bit before pulling a worn leather pouch from her belt, shaking her hard-earned money in the air to seal the deal. 

It was only a few gold coins, nothing impressive. But she was proud of her earnings, no matter the size of it. 

“Alright. If the hobbit doesn’t show, I get your coin pouch, if he does, you get mine.” Kili grinned. 

Fili noted the transpiring deal and sighed. It appears Kili was at it once again. Riding up beside his brother, Fili reached out to Kili’s head and slapped the back of his head, the thwack making the blonde prince laugh as he made his escape. 

Kili yowled at the hit and glared at his elder brother, rubbing the spot gingerly as the woman laughed. Fili was already too far ahead to take revenge, so Kili resorted to pouting as he now rode beside the mortal woman.

Everest, in her laughter. stopped suddenly to clutch her throat. At the lack of her rather pleasant laughter, Kili turned to see the look of pain flashing across her face. 

“Ye alright lass?” 

Both looked forward, seeing Oin glancing over his shoulder as their mares moved forward. Nodding her head, Everest urged her horse forward. She didn’t need the concern of the entire company. It had been clear from most dwarrow this morning they had no intention of watching out for her. Well, most had that impression sent her way. Balin, Oin, and Dwalin seemed to be the exception. And now one of the brothers to add to that list. 

Taking a breath, Everest adjusted herself on the horse saddle. The journey, she realized, would be long and treacherous. Now was the time to move forward… as impossible as it seemed. 

The deal that had taken place between the two had caught the companies ear and they too placed their bet against their fellow dwarves. The entire company, beside Thorin and Dwalin, took part in this little exchange. Even Gandalf! 

Everest loosened her hold around the reins, rubbing her hands together to use them. Turning around, she looked over the hills and into the distance. 

The Shire was a mere dot, but what caught her eyes was not the land. A figure was racing towards the company, a trail of white flowing after it… was that Bilbo? A monstrous grinned engulfed Everest’s face. Turning away from the hobbit, she exclaimed, 

_ “Bilbo’s-coming!” _

The company, ignoring her thinking it a prank, snorted and moved forward. But the hobbits squawking caused them to halt. 

“Wait!! Wait!” 

The hobbit bolted passed Everest’s mare, who trotted after the hobbit to rejoin the company a few feet from her. Stopping beside Fili and Kili, she relaxed knowing someone she was close to decided to come along. But… he may still be upset with her for her decision. Ducking her head, Everest bit her lip in concern. Now staring up at Balin, Bilbo lifted the long paper up towards the dwarf. 

“I signed it! I signed it!” 

Balin exhaled quietly and looked over the paper with a small frown. He had not expected the hobbit to join them. Nay, he thought the little lass would be all they needed. But the hobbit had come, and here was the proof. They would need to provide a pony, maybe even protection if things got worse. Good heavens, the hobbit would be worse than the lass! 

“Everything appears to be in order... Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield,”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie, if I'm honest I forgot this was a thing... Sorry about that.   
Anywho! Here you go!

With wages won, the day went on. Some rain here and there, but it was peaceful. Gandalf had introduced the idea of other wizards to the company, and Everest was intrigued at all. But she didn’t press Gandalf for more, she knew the wizard was a wise, but stingy with most information. 

The riding of the days was long, the nights of rest short. Everest never gained more than a few hours of sleep. She made short conversations with the princely brothers but spent most of the time examining her surroundings, trying to memorize the way home once they succeeded in their quest. Bilbo didn't talk to her, seeing she was engulfed in her mind. 

By nightfall, Thorin had selected a cozy corner corralled by tall stones and trees. Everest had taken a perch beside the hobbit and the princes, finding they were less tense around her. She sat quietly, fiddling with a small carving knife and stick. Snapping it over her knee, Everest threw the unneeded pieces into the fire and started to widdle. She had picked up widdling against Bilbo’s request to work with her hands, unable to stitch like other hobbits in The Shire. 

Starting to carve the small figures, Everest let her mind wander before drifting back into her blurred memories. By the time a woman had been carved and the figure of a man, a voice interrupted her work. 

“Lass, we need ta talk,” 

Lifting her head, Everest stared up at the two dwarves. Dwalin and Oin. Uncertain, she nodded and moved over a bit, allowing them to sit beside her small figure if they wished. They didn’t say anything for a minute, just watching her as she set the wood and knife down. Once her entire focus was on them, Dwalin spoke first. 

“This may be hard for ye, but we must ask. Were ye abused in the hobbit’s house?” 

Everest’s heart stopped. 

Bilbo went as pale as the snow and looked more like a fish out of water than a hobbit. Her head swam with the words of the warrior, unable to answer immediately. They took this as a sign of hesitation. Stumbling, Everest shook her head violently. She sputtered continuously before slapping her mouth shut. 

“Lass, if he has--” 

_“B-Bilbo-would-never! Has-never!”_ Everest hissed suddenly cutting Oin. 

She jumped up, coming eye to eye with the dwarves. She searched their eyes, examined their faces. They did the same. Bilbo stood, attempting to persuade her to calm down. “A simple misunderstanding, I’m sure” He kept saying, touching her arm tenderly. But she didn’t listen to his sputters. 

Dwalin snarled at the hobbits' contact with the female, making the hobbit flinch. Everest suddenly set the hobbit down behind her, taking a surprisingly threatening stance in front of him. Her eyes flickered between anger and confusion as if two people were fighting for control. The Anger won, but the confusion still flickered within those orbs of grey.

_“Bilbo-has-been-the-only-one-to-care-for-me-in-my-time-here. Why-would you--_” She suddenly froze, realization dawning on her like a hammer to her head. 

_ “You-think--”  _

“What else were we to think? Yer scars, yer manner!” Dori suddenly defended both dwarves, coming to stand beside Oin and Dwalin. 

_ “I-got-these,”  _ Lifting her skirt, she revealed her calf in a fit of rage, _ “from-an-accident! Gandalf-saved-me-and-brought-me-to-Bilbo! I-showed-you-my-note! I-told-you! You-really-thought-- Bilbo-is-a-hobbit-of-etiquette-and-quality. He-would-never-lay-a-hand-on-me. Oin,I-told-you-and-those-involved-Gandalf-would-explain-that-very-day. If-you-don’t-believe-me-ask-Gandalf.”  _

Everest heaved in large breathes, fist clasped tightly at her sides. Dwalin clenched his jaw and stared right back at her. Oin flickered his fingers across his pants, eyes flickering between the two. 

Everest seemed to deflate as resignation took away the anger. Dwalin was surprised. Shaking her head she dropped her head to the ground, muttering an apology for yelling at him. 

Taking a seat sluggishly, Everest made sure to stay at the edge of the log she occupied, the Hobbit and princes now a good distance from her and the argument. 

The two, healer and warrior, looked down on her skeptically before turning to the grey wizard who currently hissed quietly with their leader. Walking closer, Dwalin called. 

“Gandalf,” 

Both the dwarf king and grey wizard stopped their venomous debate to cast the buff dwarf a glance. 

“What is it Master Dwalin?” 

“Is what she says true?” 

The camp, which had become deathly quiet, awaited the reply from the wizard. Said elder rested himself against his staff before frowning. Had they all thought differently in her marks? The wizard waved the three dwarves to follow him into the camp, making the announcement to the entire company.

“Why yes. The Lady Everest was found near death at the feet of a metallic monster. I had been on other business when I had found her. I had personally delivered her to Bag End for care. She stayed with Bilbo and I left her in his care. Did you think otherwise?” 

Gandalf frown deepened when the company all snapped their confused eyes to their companions, clear anger mixing with the confusion. Apparently not then.

“Ye knew, and didn’t tell us?” Gloin snapped. 

“You never asked,” Gandalf shrugged. 

“But ye knew it was her in the beginning when ye arrived at the hobbit’s house. Why didn’t ye say anything?” Balin spoke upsetting his own pipe beside him after extinguishing it. 

“I never expected her to join the company. I hadn’t the slightest clue you thought her abused. As for explaining myself, I planned to do so earlier in the journey but there was little time to do so,” Gandalf replied coolly. Sitting down, the wizard glanced at the woman who had ‘created’ this entire mess. 

She met his gaze for a moment before turning away, a look he couldn’t place locked in her face. 

_ “I-told-everyone-Bilbo-didn’t-do-it-purposefully...He-was-just-waving-his-arms-around-and-I-got-to-close...I-thought-everyone-knew-better-and-would-believe-me-instead-of...I’m-sorry-for-causing-so-much-confusion...Bilbo-would-never-hurt-me,or-anyone-unless-warranted...I-didn’t-expect…. I’m-sorry-for-not-expressing-myself-further-in-the-situation,” _ Everest was clearly struggling in her apology, staring at her boots as she twisted her fingers together. She focused on her knuckles, watching the fire’s light flicker across her skin.

The next few minutes were filled with a mix of confusion, regret, and newfound mistrust. 

Bifur and Bofur turned to the hobbit and muttered softly their apologies. Everest rose from her spot and looked towards Dwalin and Oin, pain flashing through her eyes. They always showed how she felt, more so than others did. 

But what confused each company was why they only conveyed certain feelings. 

_ “I--...I-should-have-verbalised-it….I-told-you-guys...and-you-lot-dismissed-it...if-you-want-me-to-take-it-I-will. I’m-so--”  _

“Lass.” 

Everest dropped her head even lower than where it had been and clenched her fists. Everest… was never good at expressing herself to others. No one spoke to her, so why show the same courtesy to someone who was more than likely not interested? The thinking was more her speed, she could create elegant speeches and arguments in her mind, but when it came to actually speak the part… everything fell apart. 

And here she was. She had opened her mouth and thought she had done enough. It hadn’t been. She didn’t have what it takes to communicate well with others. She never was equipped with that knowledge. Sure, she spoke with the hobbits, but they were always polite and talked of frills and lace. Never about the hideous undertone. 

It reminded her of tripping others up. Her ropes of emotion and lack of anticipation always seemed to be tying others down, so they would drown with her. That’s all she really could do, tie herself up and cry when it was her own fault for what had occurred. Maybe it would be best--

“I forgive ye, just tell us straight up next time. Grow a backbone and stand yer ground. As for I, I should have believed ya when ye told me. I apologize,” Oin smiled tenderly, reaching up to massage her upper arm. 

Everest stared wide-eyed at the elder, his genuine smile washing over her like the warm sun. She remained cold. After a moment, she curled her lips and nodded. Apparently that was enough to convince him that it was a smile. 

A collective sigh was released, soon encouraging the entire company to rise to their feet and express themselves in some degree to the hobbit and woman. For their foolish decisions and assumptions, but nothing else. Everest listened to the few who spoke to her and offered her apologies. 

Thorin watched the interaction quietly, stilled perched on his seat. He had been brooding and bickering with the wizard since they departed the Shire. Ever-- The woman, nor the hobbit, were key to this expedition. Days in the expedition the woman causes a commotion and the hobbit just sits in the chaos. They were unneeded and unwanted baggage that came along for the promise of riches. 

The woman would turn tail at the first sign of danger, the hobbit hot on her heels. What had he been thinking when he passed that contract to her? That she would possibly care? No, he was merely desperate to reclaim Erebor, and the wizard was adamant on a burglar. So he took the woman, seeing she had at least a hold a weapon properly. He hadn’t expected the hobbit. What wonderful days are ahead? Filled with dead hobbits and women. 

Once the night settles, Everest had returned to whittling. Bilbo watched quietly with the princes laughing amongst themselves. 

All was well with the group, for now. 

Thorin didn’t imagine it would last long with the two-faced wench. 

“Everest, will ye tell us about yerself? And how ye came to The Shire?” Bofur called a curious grin on his face. 

Everest turned her gaze towards the dwarf. She paused her whittling to think over his words. He… wanted to know about her? Why? She wasn’t all that important. Yes, Bilbo had inquired about her but never so openly. He had asked subtle questions. Where she was from, who were her parents, where her town was. But all this was in the privacy of his home over a cup of tea. Why would Bofur-- 

“Yeah, I was wondering that maself. I have never heard yer accent before,” Bomber grunted reaching into his breakfast bundle for a biscuit. 

Bilbo turned his eyes towards Everest, expecting an answer himself. No, she had not told him about herself. She was a mystery, an odd woman with odd habits. Odd habits indeed. She would always clean, bustling around and polishing every item she found. She never let him eat a thing without cleaning it and often was found boiling her water before drinking it. 

All because she had gotten sick with a nasty cold. A terrible week for the woman. She was barely able to cough without clutching her body in pain. The wounds had not healed completely when she fell ill. 

Since then, Everest had cleaned thoroughly. 

Not to mention she always carried an odd photo of two persons with murky faces. Bilbo assumed she had amnesia, seeing she never spoke of her past. And the fact she barely remembered any name or landmark of where she once lived. She couldn’t name her village or any major landscape. 

Everest shifted back in her seat with a sigh, a look of uncertainty on her face. She was never comfortable talking, let alone talking of her past. The world she couldn’t name. Taking a breath Everest let herself relax. For trust to begin, information and conversation must occur. But she was not prepared for this. 

She would tell them another night. Everest shook her head, adjusting her whittling grip She continued her work. 

Silence reigned the camp, Bofur and Bomber understanding her silence. 

Everyone was ready to move on. They could clearly see she wasn’t comfortable with the topic. They had planned to leave her be. Kili thought otherwise. 

“Come on Everest! What could be so bad about it?” Kili grinned innocently, crouching beside her. She shifted away, avoiding the touch he attempted to place on her shoulder. 

“Kili, let her be,” Gloin started. 

The prince ignored his elder. 

“What’s the harm in telling us a few stories!” 

Everest cracked her knuckles, trying to become absorbed in her whittling. She was halfway done with the female figure, the male completed.

“Kili--” 

“What? It’s not hurtin’ anything,” 

Everest shifted away from the dwarf and muttered quietly. 

_ “Please-don’t,”  _

“Why? Is your land not worthy of mentioning?” Balin pondered suddenly, tilting his head as he continued to smoke. 

_ “It’s-not-that…” _

Panic flared through her like venom in her blood. It wasn’t the fact it was unworthy, it was  _ unworldly _ . She could barely explain her vague memories to herself, let alone another. Half of what she would save would come out as rubbish. Mumbled insanity. 

Everest set the whittled piece down and knitted her hands together, knee bouncing. Without knowing it, her shoulders hunched upward and she ducked her head down. Balin, seeing the behavior caught on to her discomfort. He puffed his pipe, nodding in understanding.

Kili did not. The prince set his hand on her knee, stilling it and childishly poked at her shoulder, trying to ‘unball’ her. 

“Everest, Everest~” 

Dwalin exhaled loudly, getting ready to slap the boy upside his head. 

The bald tattooed warrior rose swiftly from his seat, watching the female shrink and shy away from his touches. Kili prodded at her shoulder, a smile on his face. Everest had begun to clench and release her fist around the knife, head ducked as she shivered. It got worse as the prince prodded at her. 

“Kili, knock it off,” Dwalin warned. 

The behavior continued. 

“I’m doing no harm! She’s just being a bit stubborn is all--” 

Suddenly Everest rolled back and off the log, slipping into the grass and swiftly standing. Ignoring the prince, she tucked her whittling and knife away and marched to her sleeping mat. Sitting on it she held herself in a seemingly painful grip, ignoring any and all further advancements from any dwarf. Bilbo would be lucky if he got any form of acknowledgment. 

The company swiftly threw different items at the prince, ranging from spoons, empty bowls, and a few twigs. Kili received an ear full from Dori as well as Bilbo, though the hobbit stuttered a bit. 

“That is enough trouble for the night,” Thorin declared. 

Everyone cleaned and prepared from bed then.

With a dwarf on watch, everyone settled down in small chatters and whispers. 

“What’d I do?” Kili questioned, seeing the exasperate looks he got from most of the members. 

“Yer childishness laddie. Learn yer boundaries,” Dori warned waving his hand wildly. 

Thorin snorted. Taking his sword from his belt, he began to sharpen it, glancing at the woman’s boots from time to time that stuck from her blankets.

If the human would crack that easily at confrontation, she would shatter under the weight of this quest. The king hummed softly, dragging his hand along the blade. He was just counting down the days before they were attacked. Counting the hours before she was finally given a ‘reason’ to leave. 

“Thorin, do ye think she will last long?” Gloin whispered, propped up new Oin. 

“No.” The king grunted, putting his blade and stone in their perspective spots. 

“Ye are very doubtful…” 

“Of a woman and hobbit? Yes. They should never have left the shire.” 

“I’m not talkin’ bout the hobbit. I’m talkin’ bout the girl. You seem more adamant on drivin’ them to leave, aren’t ya?” Gloin rumbled, narrowing his eyes towards the king. 

“When they fail they will know their mistake in joining a quest that is not theirs to complete,” 

“Aye, maybe. But they signed while our brother did not,” 

The silence was his response. Gloin rubbed her hands, adding a log to the fire. It would be cold tonight. 

“I get the feelin’ ye’ll regret that... Maybe not now--” 

“Go to bed Gloin,” 

“Of course Thorin,” 


	7. Chapter 7

“I applaud the dwarf who got us in this mess,” Nori snapped, wiggling in his sack.

“What do we do now?” Dori hissed. 

Everest squeaked as a body was thrown on top of her. Moaning painfully, she shoved her head through the top of the sack, clear air slapping her in the face. Blinking tearfully, she watched the trolls sluggishly turn a spit with; Dwalin, Bofur, Dori, Ori, and Nori tied onto it, over a roaring fire. The shouts of the dwarves went unheard on the trolls’ ears, who chatted amongst themselves about the seasoning and the soon to come dawn. 

Looking left and right, Everest counted the dwarves. Everyone was accounted for. Exhaling, she deflated. The venom of fear coursed through her. She had never seen trolls before. Dreadful creatures they are. Ugly. Large. Smelly. 

She gagged as the wind shifted, the smell of troll was fowl. She quickly located Bilbo, who was wiggling his way up a tree to stand, shouting as he jumped forward. 

“Wait! You are making a terrible mistake,” 

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!” Dori shouted.

“Half-wits? What does that make us?” Bofur questioned. 

Managing to balance himself, Everest fearfully watched as Bilbo hopped forward so he stood away from the group, a look of fear and befuddlement on his face. 

“Uh, I meant with the-- uh, with-- with the seasoning,” 

The fear pounded through her veins, and like two toddlers fighting over a toy, her mind was split and arguing. She had felt this same thing when Kili was hounding her. It was smaller but there. And far easier to control back then, then it was now. She curled in on herself, shaking violently. The dwarf above her was speaking, she didn’t hear it. 

And then suddenly, everything stopped. The fear, the shaking, everything. 

The switch in her mind flickered before clicking upwards, the light bulb turning on within her mind. The gears began to turn rapidly, violent but vigorous movements pushing her mind forward. 

As if someone else had taken control, Everest found herself wiggling back with a dwarf balanced on her chest and stomach. It was as if she was looking through someone else's eyes as they worked. Once at the back of the group, she sat up with the dwarf cradled in her lap. Everest didn’t know who it was, but hopefully, he wouldn’t be upset for what she was about to do. Blindly, she reached forward through her sack beginning to search their form. 

“What the devil are you doing?!” A dark voice hissed. 

It was Bofur. 

Keeping her mouth shut, Everest continued her search until she felt the prick of a blade on her right palm. Taking a breath, she carefully removed it from the squirming dwarf’s form, forcing the blade through his sack into her own, leaving a hole in both of the sacks. 

“Everest! What are you doing?” Bofur hissed again, shoving his head through the top of his personal sack. 

Ignoring him, Everest pushed the knife so it laid in her palm. Taking a deep breath, she began to force the sharp tip through the sack fabric into the ropes on the right side of her head. She wouldn’t risk cutting her scars. That would be more painful than cutting new flesh. She stopped her work when Bilbo’s horrifying words filled her ears. 

“Ye--yes, I’m telling you, the secret is… to skin them first!” 

“Tom, get me the filleting knife,” The troll snapped. 

“If I get you, you little--” 

“I won’t forget that!” Dwalin snarled, thrashing in his ropes above the flames. 

“Everest, what are you doing?! You’ll cut yourself!” Fili hissed swiftly bringing her back to the matter at hand. Apparently he was watching.

She ignored the dwarf, slowly pulling herself from the sack having successfully cut the rope away. She quickly laid it over her body so her head was the only thing visible to the trolls. If the dwarves were right, the three trolls wouldn’t tell the difference. 

Seeing her mobility, the dwarves drew attention to themselves. 

Quickly and quietly, Everest reached out and started to cut Bofur free. She only caught a few tidbits of the conversation as her new mind worked in overdrive to free her… friends? Yes, friends. 

“Not--not that one, he--he’s infected!”

“We don’t have parasites! You have parasites!”

Once the dwarf was free, Everest maneuvered her body to the left, crawling backward until she was behind a tree, an enormous tree. Bofur had followed her ducking down beside her. The dwarf watched her quietly, examining her as she took slow controlled breaths. 

Bofur had the thought to take his knife back, but seeing her clench it in her fist made him rethink his approach. 

She didn’t…. Look like the normal Everest. This wasn’t Everest he knew.

Her eyes were dark and concentrated, almost blank of any other thought. Her body suggested tense muscles ready to pounce on an unsuspecting victim, her face grim with unleashed anger and violence. She looked like a completely different woman.

He didn't like it. 

This was the face of a soldier, not the kind woman he had come to know. Where had she gone? Her slight shifts brought him back from his thoughts. Bofur made an attempt to stop her in her plan, but she shoved him off. Useless to stop her, Bofur watched her step out towards the other members, slowly whittling the rope away from their necks. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!” 

“Ferret?” 

“Fools?” 

Everest had freed four other members then.

“The dawn will take you all!" 

"Who's that?" 

"No idea." 

Now there were seven free now, not including him.

"Can we eat 'im too?"

In a precipitous flash of light, the trolls morphed into disfigured stone statues. While the sun did its work, Everest sprung into action. Avoiding all contact with them, she ripped the ropes away from their forms. Letting Bofur take care of the others as assistance, Everest moved towards the spit. Going to Dwalin, she looked him over before doing the same to each dwarf. 

“Get us down lass!” 

“Just cut us loose!” 

She merely blinked at them. It was unsettling. Those on the spit grew quieter as they examined the woman. She was… different? she moved to the left precisely, like a seasoned soldier, cutting the thick ropes until she could get them out. But before she did, she kicked all the dirt she could to douse the flames. Then, working rather briskly with the knife, Everest was able to free them without much hassle. Besides the first poor sap falling to the dirt. 

“Thank ye lass,” Dori thanked patting her lower back. 

And just like that, the switch was flipped and the light bulb was out. And the venom enveloped her once more.

Holding her tongue, she nodded. Going towards Bofur, Everest flipped the knife over in her palm so the blade rested against her skin and the handle was extended towards its owner. Bofur took it hesitantly, careful to keep it in place so she didn’t cut herself. Once in his grip, she looked over the small hole in her palm. That was from when she pricked herself. 

Odd, it didn’t really hurt.

Bofur could see her body shaking.

“Lass--”

“Everest!” 

The woman barely had time to turn before she was attacked by the hobbit, the male clinging to her waist. She sighed slowly and wrapped him in a weak hug, a feeble smile splayed on her face. She still did not speak. Patting his head, Everest tried to comfort the hobbit with gestures, her words failing her. 

“Are ye hurt lass?” Balin asked quickly, stepping up beside the woman. 

Shaking her head, Everest patted his shoulder reassuringly before removing the hobbit from her lanky form. Her shaking continued. She patted Bilbo’s head and flipped her hood up, seeming to delve into the depths of her mind.

“Lass...” Balin called again. 

She raised her hand as to say ‘not now’ and yanked her cloak closer to her body. The cloak did little to hide her shaking. The dwarves didn’t understand her temperament, so left her be. 

Thorin was quick to announce the search for a troll cave. Moving forward with the search, the company immediately discovered the hoard. It wasn’t too hard, they merely had to follow their noses. As disgusting as it was. 

Everest, unable to withstand the stench without retching, stood outside claiming to keep watch. 

She did intend to watch for threats but Bifur soon joined her. Under Thorin’s order of course. She wasn’t trusted enough to be on her own for the watch. 

She was joined by the ax headed dwarf, who merely stood beside her quietly. 

He understood, somehow. When they were captured by the trolls, she had been mortified. Her mind shut down and a new one had taken control. Everest didn’t have a clue as to what she was doing, all she knew was that she did it without a second thought. 

And that scared her. She put her life at risk with a knife and put the others a risk if she had been caught. It was foolish to do, but she had done it. And she had no idea as to why or how. She was meek, pitiful really. How had she the courage to do that? 

The knife at her neck may have been an incentive. If she had made a mistake in her escape, she could have bled to death… 

_ Too bad you didn’t.  _

Everest winced. 

_ You thought I went away didn’t you, little lamb. Ha, I’m not so easily destroyed.  _

The female clenched her fists, the voice feeding the water around her. Encouraging her to dive into its depths and never return to the surface. 

The dwarf beside her touched her arm softly, watching her face calmly.

She returned to the moment at hand, a shaky breath grounding her. Bifur grunted something with a wave of his hands and somehow got his point across. 

It’s all going to be okay _ .  _

Everest smiled at him and nodded in appreciation. Opening her mouth to speak, she was hushed. Bifur was watching the tree line dangerously. After a moment, she heard it too. There was an abrupt crash in the distance, the thumping of feet being clearly heard. Whipping around, she shouted; 

_ “Something’s-coming!”  _

The dwarves scrambled for cover, drawing their weapons. Bilbo followed their example, lifting his new elven blade shakily. The poor hobbit was petrified.

Everest moved to do the same but froze. 

She had no weapon. 

And she was going to face something that may be far worse than a few trolls. The venom began to pump its way through her blood once more.

It clicked. 

Her eyes went blank and she dropped to the dirt. Now clenching a rather large stone in her hand, she was able to whip it towards their attackers' feet at their arrival. The attacker was hit at the ankle, sending them from their... Sled? The rider tumbled down to the ground and the rabbit drawn sled came to a halt. 

The man rubbed his head with a groan, having landed directly in front of Gandalf. 

“Radagast!? Radagast the Brown?” 

The grey wizard knelt down and assisted his fellow man up, dusting him off before sending a quick glance towards Everest. 

Her eyes were dark. Bilbo touched her arm and she jolted. Deep fear was etched in her eyes, Gandalf could see it engraved in her soul. Stepping back, the woman lowered her head. She rubbed her palms together and twitched a moment before it stopped completely.

Turning away, Gandalf was unable to see her growl and run a hand over her forehead, grumbling to herself as if having a conversation in her head. She clutched her head tightly, before jerking herself into a rod straight stance, not allowing any form of emotion to pass her face. 

The dwarves didn’t care to notice. 

Bilbo did, but let her be.

“So sorry about that, our newest member acted in defense, are you alright my fellow? What on earth are you doing here?” 

“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong,” 

The brown wizard stood, waving his hands wildly as he sputtered. 

"Yes?"

While the wizards stepped away to discuss the worrisome matter, Everest kicked a few stones and shifted from foot to foot. She continued to rub her palms before Gloin stepped closer.

“Lass, let’s get yerself an ax. I saw a few in there,” Gloin nodded, stepping up beside her. 

Everest looked on him a moment before nodding her head. Just outside the cave, she yanked her shirt up and over her nose, taking a deep breath. Gloin lead her inside, and for a time she was able to withstand the stench as he dug about the rubble. He gathered her several other weapons but she denied each until the axes were found. Nearing the back of the cave, she began to feel nauseous. 

_ “Gloin… the-axes-are-fine. I’m-not-- not-feeling-well…”  _

Gloin turned to the back and rapidly latched onto four separate axes, not caring for their condition at the moment. Once they were strapped to his stocky form, Gloin quickly maneuvered the girl up and out of the wretched hoard. 

Plopping down a few feet from the company, Gloin cleaned the bland axes. Everest had taken to resting against a stone ledge to catch her breath and regain some color. 

No, she hadn’t lost her lunch. But she had been close to it. 

Gloin examined the first two axes. They were clearly made for work, not war. They would do nothing against a sword or battle mase. Tossing both aside, he looked at the third. 

Everest peered over his shoulder, still a bit dizzy from the stench. 

Looking between the third and fourth ax, Gloin noticed the third seemed larger than the others, as well as lighter. Lifting the blade up, he dusted it off only to realize it was elven made. Snarling, he dropped it instantly. Everest huffed.

“Nasty blade that one,” He grumbled. 

Everest, better than before, reached down and lifted it. 

“Made by the elves,” Gloin grumbled “But this is dwarvish through and through. A fine blade to work with,” 

He lifted the fourth. Everest took both, smiling and strapping them to her hips. Easy access and wouldn’t be hindered by her pack. The dwarven ax was the heaviest, so she placed it on her left side. She was tired of hobbling about. It was time to make herself stronger. The elvish, although well crafted, didn’t seem to fit her taste. But it would do good to have in battle. 

Nodding in thanks, both dwarf and woman barely had enough time to move before a warg lurched out of the woods. Shrieking in terror, she had little time to react. Gloin drove his own axes into the beasts head, killing it on the spot. 

For a third time, the flickering switch moved to ignite. Venomous panic filled her, breath shallow and sharp. And this second person took control. 

Shoving Gloin to the left and behind her, after scrambling to her feet, she lunged for a second warg. 

Thorin beat her to it. Bringing his newest blade down upon the beast, the warg was killed. A third soon appearing at the other end of the group. Everest was saved from killing this warg as well. Kili with his arrows brought the beast to its knees, while Dwalin ended its a miserable life with a mighty swing of his ax. 

“Warg-Scouts! This means an Orc pack is not far behind,” Thorin snarled ripping Orcrist from the wargs skull. 

Everest turned to Gloin, checking him over. The dwarf shoved her off, clearly offended by her actions. She stepped back, not meaning to create hostility. But it had already been done. The redhead shoved past her and found himself beside Dori and Ori. Everest stood alone.

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Gandal rumbled, stepping closer to the dwarf king. 

"No one." 

"Who did you tell?!" 

"No one, I swear. What in Durin's name is going on?" Thorin howled glaring dangerously at the wizard. 

Turning away from the dwarf, Gandalf grit his teeth before answering. 

"You are being hunted," 

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin snapped. 

"We can't! We have no ponies; they bolted!" Ori wailed. 

"I'll draw them off," Radagast declared, mounting his sled. 

"There are Gundabad Wargs; they will outrun you," Gandalf explained, touching his companion's arm in slight concern. 

"These are Rhosgobel Rabbits; I'd like to see them try," Radagast grinned, a cunning smile on his lips. 


	8. Chapter 8

Horror; an intense feeling of fear, shock, or disgust. In this situation, Everest had a mix of these filling her to the brim. She often referred to it like venom. It coursed through her like it, speeding her heart and slowing her mind to become numb to reason. She had faced one or two orcs before one her journeys, but never a pack! 

Thanks to the sacrifice of Radagast and the brilliance of Gandalf, the company was able to run the vast plains in the hope of escape. Sprinting beside Bilbo, Everest was easily keeping up with the group, but rapidly she became weary from the constant chase. The hobbit constantly tugged her wrist, almost dragging her as he now took the lead.

Gandalf ducked behind a large boulder and held the company is place. 

“Stay together!” He hissed, motioning towards the group. 

He made eye contact with the woman, looking her over. She was flushed red, chest heaving. She was sweating profusely. Lips cracked, eyes red from excess sweat. She looked to be on the cusp of a panic attack. Perhaps passing out. 

There was little time for such things. 

Everest could hear the blood pounding in her veins, the venom melding with the adrenaline like a drug. How she didn’t collapse was a miracle.

_ Or a curse. _

Bilbo held her arm tightly in his hand, heavy puffs of air escaping his lips. 

“Move!” 

As the Company continued to run from their impending doom, Radagast continually drove his sled in the direction of the company. Everest growled, clutching her chest as she was forced to spin on her heel to run in a different direction. 

_ I would advise a different path, but that decreases the chances of your death.  _

_ “Shut-up”  _ Everest hissed.

_ Am I wrong? You could drop, and the wargs would tear you apart. Act the distraction for the company so they can get to safety. That pesky switch you have developed won’t come into play at your exhaustion.  _

Bilbo glanced at his human companion. She was wheezing. She now looked alarmingly dry of all sweat. As if she had no water left to act as a natural cooling system. 

Dehydration. 

No time for that! 

As the chase continued, Thorin screeched to a stop behind a large slate of gravel. The company followed suit, pressing as close as possible to the stone to remain hidden. But the youngest of the company, Ori, continued to bolt out of the natural cover. Horror seized Everest as the venom jumped in her. She hadn’t realized her shaking and breathing had begun to become more violent. 

“Ori, no! Come back!” 

Thorin reached out to yank the youngling back, but a smaller, longer, arm came into view and snagged the scribe back, yanking him back into their chest. Everest clung to Ori tightly, breathing as softly as she could. 

She hadn’t snapped into her frightening persona, but she could feel it in her chest, the pressure building in her lungs and throat. It would happen soon. The venom wouldn’t stop.

Thorin’s attention turned between the wizard and girl, and suddenly he hissed. 

“Where are you taking us?”

Gandalf didn’t respond, merely morphing his body to the rock behind him. Thorin stared at the wizard and then the woman, but quickly pressed himself flat against the granet himself. A warg and orc stood above their heads. 

And so the venom succeeded. 

Slowly moving Ori from her chest, Everest drew her dwarven ax. Dante she thought. Not a clue why, but she did. 

The dwarves around her stayed deathly still, their attention snapped onto Kili who hastily stepped out of hiding and fired an arrow at the Warg. The beasts fell from their high perch, allowing the perfect chance for attack. 

Everest, without a thought, slammed Dante down onto the orc’s head, making it crack in two, but the warg wailed and whined as it perished. The sounds of their execution carried across the valley; making the pack aware of the sudden death of their recruit. Realizing the dwarves were in the vicinity, the pack lunged for their location. 

“Move. Run!” Gandalf screamed, grabbing his robes and vigorously sprinting forward. 

Following his example, Everest clamped her hand down onto Bilbo’s arm and started to dash down behind Gandalf. The company following suit. Her past exhaustion forgotten, or ignored, she dragged the hobbit along. Bolting through the open plain, they became painfully aware of the wargs and orcs that had surrounded them from all sides. Everest, or this bad version of her, looked frantically for Gandalf. 

He was nowhere in sight. 

“There’s more coming!” 

“Kili! Shoot them!” 

Releasing the hobbit, the female flipped Dante in her grip, threatening any orc or warg to dare approach. The hobbit was a few paces behind her, yelling for her to move.

“Everest, Everest we have to move!” Bilbo whimpered, looking back and forth between the safety of the stones and her. 

She didn’t respond. 

Bilbo stared up at the woman in slight horror. Bilbo could do nothing but yell at her as the orcs approached. They were shouting at the two to get closer, but she moved back slowly, she was going to get herself killed!

An orc charged suddenly, but before he could lay a hand on either of them, the elvish ax lay between his eyes. Ulysses, she called it. Yanking the ax back, Everest suddenly had the hobbit by his arm. She turns tail and sprinted for the stone, throwing the hobbit ahead of her. 

Bilbo noticed Gandalf waving the company to its safety. Everest again shoved the hobbit into the arms of Nori, who half carried, half dragged him down into the stone structure. 

“This way, you fools!”

Jumping into the crevice, Nori and Bilbo plopped down onto the floor a distance from the opening, taking heavy breaths. Bibo could see the others dwarves tumble down after him, the roars of the wargs filling his ears. Wargs whimpers and orcs cries filled the air. A trail of blood slipped down the stone ledge as well. Kili fell down the crevice a moment later, Everest and Thorin behind him. 

Thorin had a tight hold around the woman, her axes clutched in her hands tightly as she fidgeted. 

Red blood was spilling from her arm, her left arm. 

“Oin, take this foolish woman and bind her!” Thorin snarled, a horn clipping his sentence short. 

She stumbled from the hold of the king, meekly wiping the orc blood off her face, tearing of the ruined skirts she wore. It was good she wore leggings beneath that skirt, or it would have been indecent. Having enough of it, she removed what she could, dropping down to sit as Oin approached.

Bilbo hurried forward and peered up into Everest’s pale face. A few smudges of dirt covered her skin with the small dots of another's blood across her cheeks and forehead. Her eyes were once again back to normal, lips quivering. She had stopped twitching, thank Yavanna, but she was on the verge of tears. 

“Is the lass alright?” 

“She got hurt?” 

Oin sat to Everest’s left and looked over her arm intently. Grunting, he rolled her sleeves up and pressed a cloth to the wound. He was quick to clean it off, examining it. He tried not to wince at the scars, ignored the sharp gasp that escaped her. 

“Tis but a scratch. The lass will be fine,” 

“We must move, the elves have arrived. I care not to meet them,” Thorin growled ignoring the hobbit and human. 

“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it?” Dwalin called peaking around the corner of the path.

“Follow it, of course!” Bofur confirmed instantly going forward. 

“I think that would be wise,” Gandalf sighed slowly, taking a tired step forward. 

Oin nodded and quickly tied the cloth to Everest’s arm, walking with her as the hobbit followed at her open side. She didn’t speak, not a sound. Traveling between narrow slits in the cavern and ducking below low hanging stones, the company came to an opening cliffside, where the ledge expanded out to overlook a wondrous empire. 

“The Valley of Imladris. In the Common Tongue, it’s known by another name,” Gandalf announced. 

"Rivendell," Bilbo breathed eyes wide as he looked over the vast empire. 

"This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy." Thorin accused shoving past his companions to glare angrily at the grey wizard. 

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself," Gandalf refuted, sending a calm glare to the king. 

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us," 

"Of course they will. But we have questions to be answered and wounded to tend to. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me," 

Moving past the king, Gandalf touched Everest’s shoulder lightly and urged her to walk with him ahead of the company. When Bilbo moved to follow, Gandalf pushed him back with his staff. 

“I wish to speak with the Lady alone if you will,” 

Nodding diffidently, the hobbit stayed behind with the dwarves. Falling in step beside Bifur and Ori.

Everest looked up at the wizard in dismay before looking ahead of them, watching her steps. They remained in silence for a time, more and more distance gathering between them and the dwarves before Gandalf found it suitable to speak.

“You have come far, but I am concerned for you, my dear,” 

Everest glanced at him in question.

Why on earth would the wizard be concerned for her? She had portrayed her ability to defend herself; although in an… abnormal manner. Perhaps she had done something wrong? In the five weeks of travel, she had done well in caring for everyone. She had done her part. Why was Gandalf concerned? Was it her lack of eating? Maybe insomnia worried him.

“While on these weeks of travel, you have done well. But I have my concerns. If you are going to survive this journey, you must learn to balance both your own life and the preservation of others,” 

Sighing Everest looked forward, carefully placing her feet along the narrow pass. Of course, Gandalf would notice something was wrong. She was just surprised Thorin hadn’t pointed it out to her. One of her many flaws. 

“I want you to eat your entire meal, and go to your mat an hour before the others. This will ensure some rest if any and a good meal. You have to contain yourself if you are to travel at full capacity. 

Nodding her head, Everest agreed to disagree. She has known about these small problems from the moment she woke in Bilbo’s hobbit hole. She never ate a full meal, nor did going early to her bed to ensure sleep. But the wizard didn’t need to know that. He was looking at the actions, not their meanings. 

_ What does that mean, lamb? Come on, tell me.  _

Everest took a deep breath. 

Over the 11 months, she had lived in The Shire, she found so many problems. She barely looked in the mirror anymore, let alone cared how she looked within her hobbit hole. She found her body revolting, felt like her entire mind was just falling apart. And the voice, the godforsaken voice! 

Shaking her head, she exhaled. She couldn’t deal with this now. All she could do was bury it in her heart and put it under lock and key. Be careful during meals and play along with Gandalf’s requests. She must remain frozen if she wanted to be strong.

“Everest, Everest?” 

Lifting her head, Everest smiled feebly before moving ahead of the wizard. She didn’t turn around at the sudden ruckus from the dwarves, nor stopped at the wizards' request. Everest continued her path down the cliffside to the railless bridge she walked quietly out and onto the safe ground within the courtyard. 

_ Best be alone now, and get used to it.  _

The elder man watched her as she moved, barely able to keep her pace as she sped down the mountain. The wizard attempted to catch her, but he stumbled many times. He would have to wait to speak with her after their descent. 

The company asked one another what could have happened to make her run ahead, but no one had an answer. 

Thorin snorted. He had been correct. She cracked. She wasn’t able to withstand the pressure of the quest. After the sight of danger, she cowered. That woman had no place amongst the company. Nor did the hobbit. Her true colors revealed. She had not cared, she had been polite. 

She had failed. 

But something about these thoughts didn’t settle with him. This human, this woman, had taken them in one by one and made sure they were welcomed warmly. Fed them with a feast they had not the pleasure to enjoy in years. She gave everything she could to them, and in return asked of nothing. 

Their friendship maybe, but nothing more. 

Thorin walked quietly behind the company, Dwalin right beside him. Everest Kirkland…. A woman not open to speak of her home, or her heritage. Had they brought a criminal with them on this quest? A miscreant? A flagitious wench? Thorin bit his tongue. Had he thought such immoral things of the girl? He had seen the beast. Thorin had seen the horror it bestowed on the girl, years after the incident. Who was he to deny her her privacy after what she had endured? 

“Thorin, what do ye think the wizard said to the lass?” Dwalin grumbled.

“Nothing good. She would not have left us behind had it been good.” He responded. 

“Ye think he wants her to stay here with the tree shaggers?” 

Thorin clenched his fist. He may not wish the hobbit or woman on his company, but he would not lay them at the feet of the elves. Never the elves. 

“I will not leave her here. If we are to leave Everest in the safety of another, it will not be elves,” Thorin growled. 

Crossing over the bridge, the company came to stand before the gates of Rivendell, where a dark-haired elf descended the stairs towards them. Everest, from what Thorin could see, sat quietly on the ground, her knees to her chest as she stared out towards the scenery around them. She sat back against a statue, soon collected by Dori. She barely registered their presence. Although she no longer looked unsettled, she carried red eyes and slightly puffy cheeks.

“Mithrandir,” 

“Ah, Lindir,” 

Snapping his attention back to the elf, Thorin watches the wizard speak with ‘it’. Leaning towards the dwarves around him, he muttered. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” 

The dwarven king drifted his attention towards Everest, who had taken her gaze from the horizon to watch the wizard and elf. Dori stood to her right, rubbing her back gently as she sat on the stone floor. 

Abruptly, the elf turned towards the woman who now stared at them. 

The air became deathly still, and Everest rose to her feet. Dori hissed but she patted his shoulder. Approaching the elf, she gave a short bow. Thorin felt his heart clench in anger. 

_ That fowl being does not deserve an ounce of her respect! _

Raising her head, Everest nodded toward Gandalf before stepping back towards her spot beside Dori, but Gandalf caught her arm. It was a tender touch, gently guiding her back to his side. 

“Lindir, she has a wound upon her arm. I must speak with Lord Elrond,” 

“My Lord Elrond is not here,” 

Lindir had yet to remove his gaze from Everest, who stared back at him with a neutral gaze. She nodded her head and lifted her left arm. The quick bandaged that once lay there was bled through, as well as her sleeve.

Lindir glanced between the two in concern before lending his hand out towards the woman. Everest quickly took it and stepped up beside the elf, going to remove the cloth holding her wound. She didn’t speak. 

“Everest, go to the company. Not here? Then where is he?” Gandalf huffed, looking tiredly towards the woman. 

Everest stepped back, bandage removed and sleeve rolled to reveal the bloody wound. The access blood had dried around it, but fresh rivers swept down her flesh. She continuously tried to keep the distance between the wizard and her form. 

Looking back towards Lindir, she smiled weakly and bowed her head. Passing the wizard quickly, Everest came to a stop beside Dwalin instead of Dori. He looked her over before taking her hand and wiping it off, disgusted she was touched by the elf. Grabbing the bandage, he wiped the scrape off and retied a new one to the offending flesh. The best bandage he had was his sleeve.

With a triumphant blare, elvish horns were heard from across the bridge, quickly approaching the company. 

The group of dwarves turned left and right, circling Everest and Bilbo to the center, Ori getting into the mix. Everest hit her knees and clutched Dwalin’s furs from behind, frightened at the sound. Loud sounds meant danger, danger meant wargs and orcs. She had to fight! No, hide! 

Fight 

Hide 

Fight 

Hide 

FightHideFightHideFightHideFightHideFightHideFightHide---

Dwalin glanced back, ignoring Thorin’s shouts to kneel at the woman’s level and check her over once more. 

Everest looked petrified, but not at the approaching elves. She kept staring at the ground. Her face was morphing between a horrifying scream to a blank slate, constantly changing. She was fighting something, and Dwalin had no idea of what. 

“Oin!” Dwalin hissed over the chatter, waving the healer over. 

The elder healer dropped down beside Everest and touched her shoulder. It wasn’t an anxiety attack, nor social anxiety… Was it a panic attack? A fit? 

“Dwalin, we ‘ave to get her to--” 

“Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain,”

Oin snapped around and stood so he blocked the view of the poor woman. She not only cling to Dwalin but now Oin’s pant leg, shaking violently. Oin reached back and placed his hand on Dwalin’s shoulder to keep him beside Everest, who hadn’t calmed in the slightest, her grip tightening. Her eyes watered, soon raining down on the stone ground. She was suffering from no physical wounds, but she was  _ suffering _ .

“I do not believe we have met,” 

“You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain,” 

“Indeed. He made no mention of you,”

Elrond peered down on the king, not offended but amused. He opened his mouth to speak but noticed one of the elders of their company standing rather stiffly. Concerned, he looked over the dwarf closely, soon seeing how another was crouched behind him. In a rather protective stance, he noted. 

Elrond noted the trembling of the elder dwarf’s leg and the slight shift behind him. It wasn’t from the kneeling bald dwarf. The desperate breaths then reached his ears, the voice feminine. Narrowing his eyes he shifted closer. Once he moved, the company shifted and glared in a warning. Elrond paid no mind to it. 

“Is one of yours wounded?” 

Thorin blinked in surprise. Turning, he found the woman on her knees, staring down on the ground as she twitched violently. Her mouth was pressed firmly together, her eyes flickering from an odious black to their original storm grey, red with spilled tears. She had a tight hold on Dwalin as well as Oin, both attempting to shield her from all prying eyes. 

Dwalin was blocking the view of her best he could from the towering elf but didn’t help much. The warrior curled her to his chest and death glared the elf, hand at her back and waist, her arm stretched to keep contact with Oin. A fragment of concern latched onto his heart as he watched her fall apart, but the king quickly turned away from her. Glaring at the Lord of Rivendell, Thorin snapped. 

“Indeed. But we need no help from  _ you _ ,” 


End file.
